Grohiiki, Kodaavi
by OpalBee
Summary: A clandestine trip to Skyrim to learn about her mother's kin and create a family of her own lands Brynhilde in a situation she never asked for, forcing her into a life not of her choosing. Can she learn to live with the hand she's been dealt and guide her own destiny, or will it break her?
1. Chapter 1

"Easy lass," Alvor murmured, his hand on Bryn's arm. She stared at him with wide gold eyes, breathing heavily, no doubt still smelling the smoke and charred flesh that had haunted her dreams all night. It had haunted Alvor's, and he hadn't been there; the girl had stayed quiet most of the evening, but Hadvar's description of the horrors of Helgen had been vivid to say the least. He gave her a brief smile and her arm a pat then straightened up. "Rough night, eh?"

"One could say that," she murmured, seeing the smith's wife and child still slept. "Hadvar…" Her companion for such a brief time was nowhere to be seen. His presence had been a comfort; he'd slept on a bedroll blocking the doorway, there every time she had awakened, though he had slept soundly. She missed his steady, pleasant manner already. She had forgiven him for allowing her to be sent to the block the moment he had asked her to follow him. He had tried to explain, tried to apologize. _Orders are orders_, he'd said uncomfortably. She hoped she never put herself in a position where she was forced to follow such orders.

"He's gone out for a bit, not sure when he'll be back," the smith stated vaguely. The girl nodded in understanding as she sat up. Hadvar had taken off for Solitude while it was still dark out. He stood and moved away to give her space to pull on her boots. She grimaced and stood stiffly, rotating her neck and shoulders. The girl was tall, even for a Nord woman, and more willowy than they usually were at her age, which he guessed to be early twenties. She was a lovely thing, though a wee bit odd looking… her eyes were an unusual golden color, for starters. There were many Nords with hazel eyes, but hers had much more gold in them than one usually saw. She was blond, again like many of their folk, but it was a pale ash blond, a hue he couldn't recall seeing before. Her fingers were long and nimble-looking, and she was thinner than a Nord woman should be. She'd picked at her dinner the night before, something that his wife Sigrid had clearly been a bit offended by. Alvor didn't blame the girl, after what she had been through, and to be fair Sigrid was easily offended. She still had a troubled look in her eyes as she rubbed her forehead. He opened his mouth to ask if she wanted a bit of breakfast before heading out, when she lifted her left hand in front of her and it was suddenly enveloped in a rich yellow glow. His eyes widened and he whispered, "Hadvar didn't mention you were a healer."

"Oh no, I'm not," she stated. "It's a simple magic my aunt taught me, when I was younger. I was a clumsy child, always getting hurt. She thought it would be useful to me. Unfortunately I don't know how to heal others."

"I see." The smith's careful tone made her frown. He shook his head and said, "The healing arts are respected here in Skyrim. Keep it to that and you'll find no trouble, but…" She stared at him, waiting, her large, almond-shaped eyes guileless. He had to keep reminding himself she wasn't from around here. At least that was what Hadvar had said, from the small amount of information his nephew had been able to pull out of the girl. "You were raised in Cyrodiil, so magic is no doubt a thing you are used to seeing, but here in Skyrim mages are viewed with…well, suspicion at best."

She smiled slightly, a bitter edge to it. "I'm no mage, I assure you. I have no gifts in that regard." Her family had made her quite aware of her lack of talent in that area.

"Ah. All right then."

Seeing she was making the man uncomfortable, she murmured, "I have imposed on your hospitality enough. I will take my leave." She bent down to retrieve her pack and weapons, such as they were.

"Of course." By Talos, the girl was odd. Her manner, the way she spoke, even the way she moved…he put it down to being raised in the Imperial City, away from most of her kinsmen. He wasn't sure if her being a Nord would work for or against her here; if she were an Imperial or Breton or even an elf, folk would be prepared for her odd behavior, but they would see a Nord and her behavior would only confuse or annoy them. As he followed her to the door he asked, "Is there anything else we can do for you before you go?"

"Thank you, no. I should get going to Whiterun. I feel bad to have waited even this long." She'd been exhausted though, unable to go even one step further, and night had been falling. As pressing as the need was to inform the Jarl there of the dragon, she and Hadvar had doubted she could make it. She wasn't entirely sure of her odds as it was, even with dawn coming. She hefted the pack onto her back; it was light, with only a bit of food, a few potions, three pelts from the wolves she and Hadvar had run into on the way here, and a book she had picked up in Helgen: The Book of the Dragonborn. It had been sitting on the small table with the pack she'd picked up and had looked valuable, if old; she would read it before she sold it, to get more familiar with Nord legends and customs. Bryn didn't have time to read it yet though, or to wait for Riverwood Traders to open in order to sell the things she'd picked up, though she had wanted to speak to the proprietors, Lucan and Camilla Valerius; a few townsfolk on the way in had mentioned that the siblings had suffered a burglary recently, where almost nothing had been stolen. Very strange. She slung the bow and quiver over her shoulder and hefted the iron shield on her arm then bowed slightly to the smith, who blinked in surprise then nodded, clearing his throat. "I thank you again for your hospitality, Alvor of Riverwood," she said softly. "I would like to repay it one day."

"You helped my sister's boy out of Helgen, and that is more than enough," he stated firmly. "Hadvar is alive because of you."

"Likewise, I am alive because of Hadvar. He trusted me, when he could have left me bound and dressed in rags to burn."

"He knew you didn't belong with that Stormcloak rabble, and even then he wouldn't have let a Stormcloak die like that," Alvor said in dismissal, waving her off. "I still don't know how you ended up there…" He paused, hoping, but she stayed silent, though there was tension around her eyes. "All right then. Gods watch over your battles, friend."

Bryn turned away to the door. "I hope to have few of those."

"Unfortunately, Skyrim these days isn't going to be too obliging." She sighed and nodded, still looking tired. He hated sending the frail-looking lass out into the world, but they had no choice, and she had offered. He opened the door and let her out, following her onto the porch. He pointed north. "Follow the road out of town, then take the bridge over the river. Take the first right you come to and follow the river down onto the plains. You'll see a large building, the meadery, to the left. You can smell it on the wind when you get close enough. Follow that road past the farms. You can't miss Whiterun, on the hill. The Jarl's palace, Dragonreach, is the highest point in the city." She nodded. "Don't forget to sell those pelts when you have time. There's a good market there. Sigrid and I used to go there once a month, before all the troubles. I would change out of those Imperial leathers first chance you get as well, until you decide whether or not to join with them. No use borrowing trouble." The girl nodded again, staring down the road, then she took a deep breath as if to brace herself before stepping off the porch. "And watch out for wolves," he counseled. "They've grown bold lately."

"Wolves I can handle," she stated confidently. It was trouble of the human variety she worried about. Bandits were a problem even in Cyrodiil, and here it could only be worse, wild as this land was. She turned her gaze on the brawny smith and gave him another brief smile. "Goodbye, Alvor. Thank Sigrid for me."

"Aye." His wife would be glad the girl was gone. He considered Sigrid the greatest beauty in Whiterun hold, but her own insecurity made her consider any halfway comely girl a threat. Perhaps the lass had sensed it and that was the reason for her staying withdrawn and quiet last night. He stayed on the porch and watched the skinny girl go until she passed over the distant bridge and out of sight, then he sighed heavily and shook his head as he turned away to start his day's work. "Strange times," he muttered. Brother fighting brother, Thalmor walking the roads, dragons in the skies, and that odd, odd girl… He wasn't sure whether he'd be glad to see her again or not; he wished her well, but he was glad she was gone. The uneasiness he and his wife had felt around her surely hadn't all been due to her mannerisms or reticence. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about her that nearly made the hair on his arms stand up. He doubted he would ever have the chance to figure out what that something was. It was unfortunate, but he doubted the girl would make it a week here.

Bryn gasped as an elk leapt up from the bank of the river where it had been drinking, something she should have noticed. "Have to pay attention," she whispered angrily. She continued on her way, trying to ignore the empty ache in her belly. She should have accepted Alvor's offer of more provisions, and she should have eaten a proper dinner. A proper Nord dinner. She couldn't afford to eat like a bird, as she had back home, in her pathetic attempts to look like her graceful aunt, and grandmother, and the neighbors. She was expending too much energy here simply surviving. Thinking past surviving was something she couldn't do yet. She was still half in shock from the events of the last few days.

The wave of helpless fury that washed over her luckily found an easy target as two wolves ran at her out of the trees. They got a few nips in but they were easily dispatched and skinned within a few minutes and her small wounds quickly healed. She hoped they didn't have pups stashed away anywhere. There were no wolves in Cyrodiil except in a few isolated places in the mountains. Bryn wondered why these ones were being so aggressive, why they were near the roads that people frequented, though from last night's talk people were traveling less than they were used to, due to the war. It was a war she had no intentions of getting involved in, but then she hadn't intended to end up bashed in the head either, or nearly losing that head with a group of rebels, or nearly being cooked to a crisp by a dragon.

Goosebumps arose on her skin as she felt the dragon's roar reverberate along her bones again. She hadn't just heard it, as the others had. She'd felt it, through every fiber of her body and mind. She wished she had opened up more to Hadvar when she'd had the chance, to have someone to talk to about it. Though she had thought him a spineless flunky for not standing up to his captain more, he had obviously felt terrible about sending Bryn to the block, and he hadn't hesitated in saving her life. She still wasn't sure why he had, other than his comment at the Standing Stones that he'd known she didn't belong in the cart the moment he'd laid eyes on her. She was relieved all over again that she hadn't chosen the Thief stone, as she nearly had. She liked moving around unnoticed, silent, and was good with a bow, but she had to admit she was damn good with the iron mace she was now carrying, though she was better with a small sword. Her aunt, the woman who had raised her, had tried to teach her as best she could, but it hadn't been easy to do with her uncle's disapproving eyes always watching, and her cousin's envious tattling of every offense, real or perceived, or even completely made up.

The fresh heat of rage hit her again and she stopped in the road, taking deep breaths. That despicable cousin was the reason she had nearly died, several times. She was amazed, in hindsight, that he hadn't simply murdered her on the way here. It would have been more expedient, though less satisfying. It was amazing he had been able to hide his hatred well enough and long enough to pull it all off. Well, he would answer for it one day, she vowed. Whatever she had to do to make him pay, she would. And she wouldn't accomplish that by being a wilting flower. It had never come naturally to her, being meek and obedient, being quiet, and now after a lifetime of stifling her nature it wouldn't be easy to get it back. If she could anywhere, it would be here, in her mother's homeland. Maybe someday she would feel comfortable enough here to call it her own. Maybe even have a family of her own, rosy-cheeked blond children by an equally blond Nord man, the whole reason she had come here. That Stormcloak Ralof had been handsome, if a bit young for her. He'd seemed honorable, for being a rebel. It was a shame he had chosen that path in life, though she hoped he had lived. She was still amazed that she had, still reeling a bit from the events at Helgen. She had set off for Skyrim to find a place of her own, create a family of her own, and she had met with nothing but trouble since hitting the Pale Pass.

Bryn continued down the road, the now visible bulk of Dragonsreach serving as a beacon in the distance, as did the sour-sweet smell of fermenting honey on the air. The smell made her nose wrinkle. She had been offered mead with dinner last night and had declined, probably again offending her hostess. She'd tasted it before and found it foul, unable to figure out what her mother's kinsmen loved about the drink. She preferred sweet elven wine, and knew better than to even dream of asking for it up here, if it could even be found. From Ralof's comments in the cart, Elves were not regarded kindly here, though she had seen one working cheerfully at the mill in Riverwood, a Bosmer. Why he was doing something that was such an anathema to his kind was a mystery.

She came to the crossroads at the same time as a helmeted guard, and she stifled her nervousness and gave him a nod and a smile and continued left on the road. He said nothing, his expression unreadable in the helmet, but she felt his steady gaze on her back as she passed the meadery. She had no reason to be nervous, really, but the Imperial leathers she was wearing made her feel very conspicuous. She didn't want to have to start answering questions.

The first farm appeared on her left, and her jaw fell open as she saw an immense manlike creature in the field, surrounded by three warriors. She quickly pulled out her bow and put two iron arrows into the beast, a giant it seemed, then the big dark-haired man finished it off. It fell to the ground with a resounding thud, and she wrinkled her nose as she neared it, curious. She had thought giants myths, like so many other tales her aunt and grandmother had told her, thinking they were imparting some sense of Nord culture on Bryn, in their caring but condescending way. The creature smelled terrible, like a mix of wet wool and moldy cheese. She couldn't believe how enormous it was, a good twelve feet tall.

The lovely auburn-haired woman put up her weapons and jogged over, saying with approval, "You handle yourself well. You could make for a decent Shield-Sister. We could use another archer."

Bryn hesitated, wary of looking like a fool. She finally asked, "What is a Shield-Sister?"

"An outsider, eh? Never heard of the Companions?" Bryn shook her head. "An order of warriors. We are brothers and sisters in honor. And we show up to solve problems, if the coin is good enough."

She thought it over for a moment. It sounded good, but then so many things did at first. The trio seemed eager to go, in fact the big man and the other woman were already turning away. She steeled herself then asked, "Can I join you?" She'd need coin, and it had warmed her to hear the woman's approval.

"Not for me to say. You'll have to talk to Kodlak Whitemane, up in Jorrvaskr." Bryn pondered this, a moment too long it seemed when the woman said, "I'll take my leave then."

"All right. Thank you." The woman turned away without a smile and joined her two companions to return to the city. Bryn considered tagging along but didn't want to look like an eager child, and their pace was a bit sedate. She jogged on ahead of them, making note of the other farms and the stable. It wasn't until she reached the city ramparts that she wondered what was going to happen to the giant's corpse. The warriors had just left it there, lying among the farmer's crushed potato plants. She supposed the farm folk could handle it from there, but it still seemed rude.

Bryn frowned at the condition of the city walls. Large stones lay on the ground, having fallen ages ago it seemed, and small trees were taking root here and there. The drawbridge looked to be in good condition, as were the city gates. She couldn't understand why the Jarl here was allowing the fortifications to crumble, especially if war was in the air. Alvor had said last night that Balgruuf was a good man, if over-cautious. These walls didn't scream 'caution' to her. No wall was high or strong enough though to stop a dragon.

At the gates the guards gave her just as much grief as she expected, but not an inordinate amount. It was good to see that they didn't let just any stranger in. They didn't seem entirely convinced of her urgency and were still rather suspicious of her, but that was fine. At least they were doing their jobs.

Her first view of the city as she entered the gates was reassuring. It was clean and all the buildings were in good repair. Folk looked well-fed, as did the children running about playing tag. She paused inside the gate as she took all this in, then she heard raised voices to her right. A burly blond man in Imperial armor was arguing with a woman who seemed to be the town smith; the woman could have been a Nord herself, if not for her tan skin. Bryn quickly shook herself and walked around them, trying not to eavesdrop, though it was impossible not to. It gave her more insight into the situation here though, as did the man's armor. It made her feel better about her own, though she still intended to get out of it as soon as possible. The woman here no doubt had a wide selection available, but Bryn doubted she could afford it yet. Yet.

She continued up the road toward the market, enjoying the chill breeze that blew across her bare arms and legs. She had always found the Heartland too warm for her taste. The weather here felt good… brisk, fresh, lively. The cold bothered her hardly at all, and that was heartening. She was a Nord, as her mother had been, and hopefully she could learn to live like one. Other races lived here too though; she could see Redguards, who must have been freezing here, and an Imperial produce seller, and a Bosmer butcher. It was comforting to see a variety of faces.

Bryn did pause long enough to go into the general store, though she nearly went back out as the Breton man said in a sleazy voice, "Let me know if you see anything you like." It wouldn't be him, that was for certain. She tried not to wrinkle her nose, a habit of her aunt's she was trying to rid herself of, and approached the counter. Belethor tried making a few jokes, and when they fell flat he finally got down to business. She sold the pelts, getting only enough money to buy a few meals, if she was lucky. She was never going to survive at this rate. He had a number of trinkets, odds and ends, that sort of thing, that she would have ignored back home as trash. She'd never wanted for anything material back then. Her dresses had always been fine silk, her shoes the softest doeskin, her hair always the latest style. For not the first time she wondered if she could make it back to Cyrodiil, back to her aunt's cosseting, which she had always found annoying but comforting. She shook her head as she left the shop, ignoring another creepy comment from Belethor on the way out. No, she had come here for a reason, though not in the way she had planned. She was a Nord and belonged with her people, the people she had decided as a teenager would be hers, and no amount of her aunt's arguing or crying had ever changed her mind. She couldn't let a little hardship change it now. She wouldn't be weak. These people wouldn't tolerate that.

The sound of another argument made her hesitate outside the shop, and she felt uneasy over the content of it. She'd assumed this a solidly Imperial city, and clearly it was not. She felt terrible for the old woman though, who was worried sick for a missing son, and the two men looming over her looked like bullies. It was all Bryn could do not to step in, but other townsfolk were right there, listening and trying not to. Bryn would step in if either man laid a hand on the woman, and they didn't, to her relief. She wasn't sure what she was getting into here, and involving herself in local disputes could quickly get her into trouble.

She continued up the hill, and she stopped stock still at the top, shocked. Not by the immense dead tree, though that was unfortunate, but by the Shrine of Talos, right out in the open, in broad daylight. A priest was there, spouting off, sounding a little off his rocker, but no one accosted him or told him to be quiet. Again, another sign things might not be as they first seemed.

A glance to the right showed a large building that looked like an overturned ship, of all things, but it wasn't Dragonsreach, and that was her goal. She headed up there, ignoring suspicious looks from the guards, though their comments were friendly enough; some even told her about a local bandit camp that could use cleaning out, making her bite back proud smiles. So she looked like an adventurer, then! She liked the sound of that. She would have to invest in a journal and a map first chance she got, to write down and keep track of the information she was getting.

"Wow," she whispered once inside the doors. The place was immense, as big as any wealthy manor in Cyrodiil, but it had warmth no Imperial structure ever could. Bryn had been raised inside stone walls, in a townhouse of stone, hard and cold. Most of the buildings she had seen in Skyrim were wood, softer and more welcoming, more a part of nature. She found that she liked it, but again, they would have no defense against dragon fire.

She didn't make it far across the hall when a hostile Dunmer woman approached her, weapon raised, and she halted by the fire, wary. The Jarl and his steward were debating something, as everyone seemed to be doing in this town, but she couldn't focus on their words past a mention of Helgen with the woman's blood-red eyes glaring murderously at her. All Dunmer were hard to warm up to, at first, so she didn't take it personally. He was a very important man and this must be his bodyguard.

"What is the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors."

"Who is this then?" the Jarl asked, his attention suddenly on Bryn, who didn't know who to answer first. The Dunmer woman with the drawn sword was the more pressing, obviously.

Bryn stammered, "I…I have news from Helgen. About the dragon attack." The Dunmer looked surprised and sheathed her weapon. Bryn tried desperately to keep her wits about her as the Jarl interrogated her and his Imperial steward argued. She found the pompous little man aggravating and wondered if he could even lift the two-handed sword on this back. The thing looked ceremonial, not serviceable at all. She didn't approve either that he worried more about appearances and politics than Riverwood's safety.

Next thing she knew, Bryn was accepting a suit of studded Imperial armor from the Jarl's own stores as reward for the information about Riverwood and Helgen. "Th-thank you, my Jarl," she stammered, appreciating the gesture but not at all happy to get only a nicer version of what she was already wearing and desperately wanted to get rid of. He waved away her thanks and motioned for her to follow, to speak with his court wizard, who had a keen interest in all things dragon related. Bryn followed like a lost lamb, trying desperately to keep up.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Succeed at this and you will be rewarded. Whiterun will be in your debt."_ Those words rang through Bryn's mind over and over again as she returned down the stone stairs to town. With only a few words and a suit of armor the Jarl had begun to earn her loyalty. He was a good man, she could tell, taking the safety of his hold and its people dead seriously, and the servants hummed to themselves as they worked, always a good sign. She wasn't too impressed with his arrogant court wizard, Farengar, and hadn't appreciated him calling Riverwood a miserable little village, but he looked like he didn't get out much. Such was often the case with mages, though she knew it hadn't been with her father. Her aunt had no end of glowing stories about him and his deeds. If only she had told similar stories about Bryn's mother, Bryn wouldn't have felt such a need to come to Skyrim.

She paused at the dead tree, wondering how urgent her mission to retrieve the Dragonstone was. Farengar hadn't seemed too anxious about it. Perhaps she had time to stop by Jorrvaskr, which she now knew was the big mead hall with the odd roof, like an overturned ship. The guards were a talkative bunch, once they'd realized she was working for their Jarl, and had pointed her in the right direction. It didn't hurt to have a back-up plan, and the cold but lovely auburn-haired woman had laid out the offer to at least try out for a spot. She liked the sound of honor, of brother- and sisterhood. Belonging. She had never really felt like she'd belonged, anywhere. Her aunt had tried to raise her as best she could, but it wasn't easy when the child wasn't your own, and your own child despised his adopted sibling and your husband treated her like a severe inconvenience. Bryn wanted to make her own choices about where she belonged, and the Jarl had begun to help her make that choice. Even the guards unwittingly had; one had asked her on the way down the stairs if she was thinking about settling in, and when she'd nodded he'd told her about Breezehome being for sale. _Breezehome_… It sounded lovely.

Jorrvaskr certainly was pleasant, with the smell of roasting meat wafting out the doors along with the sounds of encouraging cheers. When she opened the door however she was horrified to see two people in a fistfight, a Dunmer man and an armored Nord woman. She stared at the scene in dismay until she realized the others were cheering them on and even offering pointers. She glanced around and no one noticed her, most of them too busy drinking mead and laughing as the two warriors pounded on each other. She saw the three she had fought the giant with: the redheaded woman was sitting on a bench against a back wall, relaxing; the tan Imperial woman was watching the fight intently, her dark eyes eager; the big brute of a man stood silently, though every so often he would nod as a hit was scored.

The fight ended with the Dunmer on the ground panting, "No more, I yield, I yield!" With startling suddenness, the crowd broke up and drifted off to their own places, many of them around the fire at the long feasting tables. Not knowing what else to do, Bryn cleared her throat. It earned her a few glances, all of them disinterested. Hurt and offended, she nearly turned and walked out, but the big dark-haired fellow from that morning gave her a hint of a smile. So that was how it was then. If she was weak and self-centered enough to just walk out over something as small as being snubbed she wouldn't make it far here. Or anywhere else. She had to grow a backbone, and quick, or she might as well crawl home.

Her eyes followed the big fellow until he sat down at a side table, picking up a loaf of bread and biting into it then following with a swig of mead. She heard a conversation between an older man and the redheaded woman about younglings and getting themselves killed, and had to wonder if it was directed at her. If so, the warning wasn't too subtle. She went to the big man and he glanced up at her with startling pale gray eyes. He was incredibly handsome, though it took a moment to realize that under the layers of warpaint and road grime. Naively, she had expected most Nords to be fair-haired, but his hair was nearly black. Those eyes though...she had never seen the like, a nearly silver color, ringed with darker gray.

"My brother Vilkas is a better talker than me," he stated in a rough but pleasant voice. "He should be around someplace."

Bryn asked, "And you are?"

"Farkas."

Bryn waited for more, but nothing came. "All right," she drawled. "My name is Brynhilde. Bryn. Where may I find Kodlak?"

"He's downstairs a lot these days, probably with Vilkas."

She glanced around and quickly noted the stairs. "Thank you, Farkas."

"Sure. Hey, maybe I'll be seeing you around."

"I hope so." He seemed nice, if rough around the edges, and he was certainly easy on the eyes. He turned away, effectively dismissing her, or maybe he always stared off into space like that. She shrugged and headed for the stairs.

"Thinking I need to train some more."

The mumbled comment made her pause, but when she glanced at Farkas he was still staring blankly at nothing, chewing on his bread. It had definitely been him though; he had a very distinctive voice. She blew out a breath and headed downstairs, wondering if he were a bit slow. He'd handled that giant well though.

Once on the lower floor, Bryn looked down the long hall, not sure where to go. A sleeping area was to her left, likely not where she needed to be. She heard men's voices at the end of the hall, debating something. Did everyone here in Whiterun debate everything? It seemed that way, but she supposed the times called for it. She headed in the direction of the voices, walking softly, though not deliberately trying to sneak about. It came naturally though, something she had done a lot of in recent years, in vain attempts to avoid her aunt's overbearing mothering and her cousin's spying.

"But…I still hear the call of the Blood," a young man said in a tormented voice.

An older man answered, "We all do. It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome."

"You have my brother and me, obviously. But I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily."

"Leave that to me."

Bryn peeked around the corner of the doorway and her eyes were instantly drawn to the dark-haired man in her direct line of sight. He was clearly Farkas' brother, Vilkas, and a twin at that. He was a well-built man, though not as massive as Farkas, quite tall, and his dark blackish-brown hair was short where the other's was shoulder-length. He was certainly stunning, and had a flash in his piercing gray eyes that his twin didn't. She could hardly take her eyes off him, finding something captivating about him that his brother lacked. A spark, a fire…something intense that Farkas didn't contain. A man like that could make all thoughts of finding a blond husband fly out the window. Movement next to him caught her attention, an older man slumping over in his chair as if he were exhausted, or in pain. He was handsome though, leonine, with a mane of white hair that gave him his name: Kodlak Whitemane. Her eyes went back to Vilkas and he finally noticed her there, starting slightly then giving her a scowl. The gloomy expression was so different from Farkas' mostly open, pleasant one that it took her aback.

The old man straightened up again with what seemed a great effort and gazed at her with a neutral expression, waiting, and Bryn took a deep breath and moved forward to speak to them, hoping this wasn't a mistake, as so many things in her life had been so far. As she moved into the light Kodlak's eyes widened slightly, as if in recognition, and it made her pause for a few seconds before continuing forward. She resisted the urge to bow and straightened her shoulders, trying to look tough, knowing she failed miserably at it. It was hard to look tough when you had spent half your life deliberately starving yourself. Or looked five years younger than you really were.

"A stranger comes to our hall," Kodlak stated, his expression slipping back into neutrality. "What is your business here, girl?"

"I wish to join the Companions," Bryn stated strongly, glad her voice didn't waver. She knew she had a tendency to get either tongue-tied or mouthy when confronted. It was why she had kept her mouth mostly shut in front of the Jarl.

"Do you now? Here, let me have a look at you." She moved closer, and the old man leaned forward and peered into her eyes, his own pale ones still clear, full of character. He looked to be in his sixties and was still hale, not yet rattling around in his armor; it matched the twins', steel plate emblazoned with a wolf's head. "Hm. Yes, perhaps," he murmured as he sat back, stroking his beard. "A certain strength of spirit."

Vilkas said in barely disguised dismay, "Master, surely you're not considering accepting _her?_" The girl's arms and legs were like twigs, and she seemed uncomfortable in her poorly fitted Imperial-issue armor. Gods only knew where she had gotten it; her boots and helmet didn't match, and she had no gauntlets. Her pale blond hair stuck out haphazardly, as if she'd cut it herself without a mirror. She frowned at his comment, seeming hurt by it, which didn't help her overall appearance of being a child playing at being a warrior. Warriors and potential warriors didn't pout, certainly not over words he didn't consider harsh by any means.

"I am nobody's master, Vilkas, and last I checked we have empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts."

"Apologies, but perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider."

Bryn lifted her chin and stated, "I am Brynhilde, called Bryn. I've recently come to Skyrim to… to seek my fortune." She cursed the clichéd words the moment they came out of her mouth, and she resented the man for rattling her.

"Fortune?" Vilkas scoffed. "You think you will find that here? Do we look like we are wallowing in gold to you?"

Irritated, she said, "There are more kinds of fortune than gold, brother of Farkas. And yes, from my point of view, you do look like you're wallowing in gold. In fact I saw several pouches of it simply lying around."

"Ho!" Kodlak chuckled. Vilkas stared at her, speechless. It wasn't often that anyone talked back to his protégé, not even Njada. "Sometimes the famous come to us, Vilkas. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame." Vilkas grumbled and folded his arms. "It makes no difference. What matters is their heart." The girl's expression softened and she smiled slightly at him, turning an already pretty girl into something truly lovely. He noted she had not a single scar anywhere on her creamy skin, which worried him. Even the most naturally gifted of warriors were beginners once, and luck took you only so far.

"And their arm," Vilkas reminded him.

"True. How are you in a battle girl?"

"I have much to learn," Bryn stated honestly, "but I am eager to do so." Fighting seemed to be something she was good at. Her cousin had often told her that Nords were good for nothing but bashing in heads…mostly each other's. Well, so be it. Maybe someday she would have the opportunity to bash in his. The thought lit a sudden fire in her. If she became good enough she could avenge herself on him. Her aunt was still young and could have more children, though it would be unfortunate to cause her hurt that way. Her cousin had been a child borne of duty anyway, but Bryn had been the child of her aunt's heart, of her aunt's choosing, and her cousin knew it. And if she couldn't take her revenge by murdering him, then she would do so by making a life for herself here, one so fantastic he'd have to hear about it. She would make her fame here, as Kodlak had said. Kodlak seemed to have faith in her, as the Jarl had, and she would do everything she could to affirm that faith.

"Good, good! That's the spirit. Vilkas here will get you started on that." He turned to Vilkas and ordered, "Take her out to the yard and see what she can do."

"Aye," Vilkas said shortly. He stared at his master for a moment, unsettled by how easily the old man had accepted the girl. New recruits were usually interviewed more thoroughly than this. People of many backgrounds came here, and oftentimes those backgrounds were questionable, but the Companions at least wanted to know where their newbloods came from. Kodlak was softening in his old age, but when it came to the welfare and future of the Companions he was still hard as steel. Vilkas couldn't see what Kodlak saw in the girl, but then he wasn't Harbinger. Not yet. He stood and grumbled at her, "Come along, then."

The man took off at a jog, and Bryn stared at him for a moment before Kodlak said with amusement, "Better hurry along, youngling." The girl peeped in dismay and ran after Vilkas, all legs, like a marsh bird. He chuckled again then grimaced and leaned over, the pain returning deep in his gut. He could feel the rot slowly creeping through him, week by week, infiltrating organs and muscle, though the healers said it hadn't reached his spine or brain yet. He still had time. And now he had hope, delivered to him, finally, in the form of this gawky girl.

* * *

"And be careful, it's probably worth more than you are."

"All right," she said breathlessly. He walked away, leaving her holding the sword, which looked plenty sharp to her. It was also extremely heavy, and Vilkas had handled it like it was made of air. The other Companions who had been watching the brief fight also began to drift away. She supposed that was that. She tried not to grin like a giddy child. She was in! She was really a Companion! Though in hindsight it seemed it should have been much harder to get in than it had been. She had only taken a few swings at Vilkas, and she hadn't even really tried to hurt him. The thought of smashing that fine face was horrid. Not that she had stood a chance of doing so. He'd moved as if his heavy armor was a second skin and his weapon and shield extensions of his arms.

The young Imperial woman she had seen fighting the giant looked her up and down as she passed and said, "Here to be a Companion?" She snorted a laugh. "Well, they just let me in, so there's probably no more room."

"That was for Vilkas to decide, and it seems it has been decided," Bryn stated, hefting the heavy blade he had thrust at her. It was a test, nothing more, she reminded herself. Everything here was a test. She hoped it wouldn't always be this way. It would be nice to make friends, something she hadn't been allowed much of in her prior life, her aunt worried about 'unsavory influences' and her cousin poisoning others against her at every turn, and many of the neighbors hadn't been too keen to allow their perfect children to play with Bryn, either.

"So it has," the young woman sighed, then she brightened. "But hey, that means I'm not the newest newblood anymore and can show you the ropes."

"Very true," Bryn laughed. "My name is Brynhilde. Bryn."

"Ria."

"So…why did you become a Companion?"

"Are you kidding? I've wanted to be a Companion my entire life!"

Bryn listened politely as the other woman went on enthusiastically about the Companions, but it was enlightening, though also embarrassing that a girl from Cyrodiil, a Nibenese girl at that, had heard of the 'most famous warrior band in Skyrim' but she hadn't. She'd never heard of them before the giant. But then it was becoming painfully aware how little she knew about everything. It made her blood boil to think of how sheltered her aunt and grandmother had kept her. And for what? What the hell was the point of it all? Well, she wasn't stupid. She knew what the point had been: to keep her dependent. To keep her childlike. If they had seen her bashing in Stormcloak heads and running around with no pants on in this stupid Imperial armor they would faint.

"This is life, sister. The struggle is what reminds us to draw every breath," Ria finished.

"I will remember that," Bryn said with a serious nod. She could only imagine what it was like to have that much zeal, that much energy. Though maybe if she started eating properly that would help. She'd had only a few nibbles from the sparse amount of food in her pack. The short bout with Vilkas had her stomach grumbling and she could feel the beginning of the shakes that came when she'd pushed things too far. Maybe she could have a few bites from the long tables in the hall, or sneak that sweetroll she had seen downstairs. If she was a companion now, a Shield-Sister, surely she could have a little food. Sister. She liked that.

Bryn ran her errand and received one in return, a shield for Aela. She learned Aela was the auburn-haired woman who had given her the idea to come here. It hadn't been hard to find the Skyforge, and Eorlund had seemed pleasant, if gruff. It seemed to be the way of the folk here, something she was quickly learning not to take personally. It had been hard to tell the man's age, but he looked to be in his sixties, and well-muscled as smiths often were. The forge itself had been marvelous, seeming to have grown out of the side of the hill like a thing of nature. Bryn had always found smithing an interesting craft, what little she knew of it. She couldn't imagine how one took a plain ingot and fashioned it into something wearable or wieldable, something that you could depend on to save your life, or take a life. Now that she was free to do as she willed she thought she might look into learning more about it. There had been another smith near the gates, the dark blond woman. She'd sounded like she needed help at the forge, too. Surely she wouldn't mind giving Bryn a few pointers in return for free labor.

At the corner of the building Bryn paused, seeing that Vilkas had gone back outside onto the back porch. She moved into the shadows to watch him, his face so much more pleasant now that he was alone. She had thought most Nords fair-haired, but she had seen a lot of variety in that regard, though all were fair-skinned and light-eyed. Those eyes of Vilkas' though…they were the same as his brother's-they had to be since they were twins-but where Farkas' were open, Vilkas' smoldered, with hidden depths Farkas most likely didn't possess. She watched him sit down and stand back up half a dozen times, restless, as if struggling with something. She remembered his troubled statement earlier: _But I still hear the call of the Blood_. She watched him get up and pace a bit then he rubbed his hands over his face and went back inside the hall. Something was deeply bothering him. Whatever it was, Kodlak wasn't immune to it either: _We all do_. They all heard the call of the blood, whoever they were, whatever 'the blood' was. They seemed to include at the least Vilkas, Kodlak and Farkas; she realized now that they all wore matching armor, fine steel plate emblazoned with a wolf's head.

She gave him a minute then she followed inside. She stopped inside the doorway to let her eyes adjust to the lower light, and she saw that Vilkas had settled at the same small table Farkas had been sitting at earlier; Farkas now occupied the bench to Bryn's immediate left. She considered stopping to talk to him again, to see if she could draw more out of him, but she had an errand to run, one she hoped was the last. Next she knew they'd be asking her to fetch their mead, and that was where she drew the line. Eorlund had counseled not to be a pushover, that no one ruled anyone else here, each man and woman their own, and she meant to take that counsel to heart. It didn't seem an efficient system though, having no real leader. She wasn't sure how they kept things organized and got jobs done with no one really in charge.

Bryn performed her errand, meeting the older warrior he had seen talking to Aela earlier, Skjor; Ria had sung his praises during their brief conversation, speaking of his and Kodlak's battle with a hundred and one Orc warriors, though Skjor had said it was more like forty. Even that number was astonishing. He looked like he had seen a lot of action; one eye was fogged over, on the same side of his face as a scar that ran up his cheek. He was balding but solidly built, his movements still sure and powerful, in his early to mid-fifties from what she could tell, but she wasn't good at reading age in her own folk. He was curt, no-nonsense, but not unkind. He also wore the wolf armor.

Aela was more welcoming this time, seeming pleased that Bryn had made it here and had been accepted, though Bryn wasn't happy about her calling Farkas 'ice brain'. Farkas hadn't minded, noticing her look of dismay, and it seemed it wasn't intended in cruelty, was maybe even intended with affection. He said they were good people, and he would know. Perhaps this was how all families worked. It would take time to learn the ropes here, how everything and everyone fit together. How her people worked. She already liked it here, uncertain as she was as to how she would fit in. She had never fit in anywhere, so it was good to finally have a place where she had been taken in so easily. Even if she wasn't able to make her mark with Jarl Balgruuf, she would have a spot here, warm meals and a dry bed, and maybe someday a family of her own making, Shield-Brothers and –Sisters, until she could marry and create a real family.

Farkas left her in the common quarters with a job she wasn't particularly pleased about, but she had taken it. She had been tasked with, it seemed, basically beating up another person, someone named Sinmir. Once he left Bryn set to the task of getting to know the others. Ria she already knew; Njada was unpleasant, hostile even, as if paranoid about being displaced, thoroughly unlikable; Torvar was nice enough, though an obvious drunk, which Bryn couldn't figure out why it was accepted here; Athis had the typical cool Dunmer demeanor, though he had been helpful and offered to help her train in light weapons, for a price. She would take him up on that when she had the coin; she was no brawler like Farkas.

As she crossed the upper hall she passed Vilkas, and he offered begrudgingly, "Come to me with questions. I know our history almost as well as Vignar by now, though I can remember it." He said the last with amusement, though it quickly faded. As if he weren't used to the emotion.

"I will, thank you," Bryn said with a slight bow. He frowned at the gesture, almost a sneer, and she ignored it, though she vowed to stop doing it. It had been drilled into her as a child as a basic politeness, and clearly was not expected or even understood here. To make conversation she said, "Farkas has given me a job already. I'm supposed to straighten out someone named Sinmir."

"Is that so." He could tell she didn't relish the job. "Do you have a problem with your assignment, newblood?"

"No, I just…I'm new here. Who is Sinmir?"

"A warrior who spends all his time sitting by the fire at the Bannered Mare, drinking and complaining about how the guard does their duty."

"Ah, yes. Bannered Mare." She had noted it in the market, hearing the sound of music and conversation drifting out.

"Go in there and say you're looking for Sinmir. Straighten him out, as you were told to do. It is how these things are worked out…a good clean fistfight. No grudges will be held, if that is your concern."

"All right, but Farkas said…well, he said they needed muscle for the job…" At that Vilkas couldn't help but laugh shortly, and she said with worry, "I know I'm thin—"

"Try eating once in a while, sister," Aela scolded good-naturedly from across the table, having come up while Bryn had been getting acquainted with her new roommates. The Huntress picked up a leg of game bird and threw it at her, and the girl caught it nimbly. "Start with that. You go trying to do a job in your condition and you'll make a fool of us all."

Bryn nodded and looked helplessly at the leg, holding it by the bone, and Vilkas snorted in derision and said, "It won't put itself in your mouth. You're not one of those poncy types who won't eat meat, are you?"

"Leave the child alone," an elderly man barked. She hadn't noticed him at the other end of the table. He pulled out a chair next to him and ordered, "Come here, lass. Sit your skinny rump down and fill up." Bryn meekly did as ordered and began to nibble at the bird leg. He loaded cheese, fruit and bread onto her plate as he said with authority, "Name's Vignar. Vignar Gray-Mane. You need to know anything, you come to me."

She glanced at Vilkas at the other end of the table, and he smirked and rolled his eyes as he shook his head slightly. She was stuck though. She was not about to be rude to an elder, and he looked as ancient as Jorrvaskr itself, his face as wrinkled as a dry apple. He couldn't be a day less than eighty. She wondered if he were Eorlund's father. She soon found out more than she ever wanted to know about Vignar, his much younger brother Eorlund, clan Gray-Mane, their rivals clan Battle-Born, the Companions, and the political situation in Skyrim. It was educational, if tiresome, though Vilkas and Aela's comments peppered in here and there lightened the tedium a bit. In the end it gave her a more rounded view of things, and reinforced the sense that the group here was a family as much as a company. Like all the Companions she had met so far, Vignar seemed to have no spouse or child. That was worrisome. She wanted a husband and children someday, and sooner rather than later. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life fighting and drinking and telling stories. She didn't see how anyone could be happy with that.

Vignar noticed the girl had eaten a fair amount and said, "All right then. Let that set a few minutes then get out there and do the job Farkas gave you. My advice: don't think too hard about it. Fight well, and the rest takes care of itself."

"Yes sir, I'll try to do that."

"And when you get a bit of coin in your pocket, do something about…whatever it is you're wearing. Unless you plan on joining the _Legion_," he sneered.

"No sir, I don't plan to." Getting involved in a civil war was the last thing she wanted. She was beginning to think both sides had their points, but the thought of kinsmen battling each other was horrifying. Still, she had been raised at the heart of the Empire, and she hoped that Ulfric Stormcloak had the best of reasons for what he was doing. If not, he fully deserved the block that they had both narrowly escaped.

"See that you don't." Bryn nodded and picked up her plate. Vignar put his hand on her arm. "Leave that. Tilma takes care of things around here. Always has." Bryn nodded and stood, then she yelped when the old man pinched her thigh, making the others in the hall roar with laughter. "We'll get you fattened up into a proper Nord woman yet," Vignar vowed.

Aela stated dryly, "Not all of us are big boned, old man."

"I just felt her bones. They're big. She needs to get some meat on them or she'll blow away in the next stiff wind."

Aela noticed with interest that the girl swallowed and lowered her gaze to the fire, her eyes looking glossy. "She needs muscle Vignar, not fat. We'll take care of that. Our sister here has potential, just give her time." Bryn lifted her gaze and looked at Aela gratefully. Aela nodded to her and said, "Now go teach Sinmir a lesson."

Bryn drew herself up and said gravely, "Yes, I will do that. I will take my leave then, Vignar the Revered."

"Aye," Vignar muttered into a mug of mead. "I was done talking anyway."

She glanced at Aela in concern and the Huntress made a shooing motion, and the girl jumped and hurried out of the hall, making Vignar chuckle. Vilkas leaned back in his seat and stared at the front doors, frowning as he often did. Aela said to him, "I heard she gave you quite the thrashing in the yard."

"That would be a lie," Vilkas stated.

"So?"

He hesitated a moment then said, "As you said, she has potential. She's had some training, obviously. Her eyes and feet were always where they should be, and she knew where to place her blows. She was surprisingly strong for how thin she is."

"But?" She could hear the unspoken word, hanging there.

"There is something…odd about her."

"How so? She's young and awkward. That's all I see. She'll grow out of it."

"Yes… She was not awkward in the yard, I'll give her that. She focused the moment she armed herself. It is all the rest that troubles me." He waved his hand at Vignar, who was nodding off. His servant Brill noticed and hurried over to attend him. Vilkas lowered his voice, though it still carried in the hall. "It's as if the lass doesn't know where she is the rest of the time. She is kin, a Nord, I can see that, but her mannerisms… It's the way she holds herself, the way she talks." Her head was always held high, almost arrogantly, but her eyes looked troubled, darting around constantly in a way he found unsettling, those eyes much too often settling on him. And such eyes. In the light of the fire they'd almost seemed to glow from within, an odd color of hazel, almost gold, tilted up slightly at the corners. He had never seen Nords with eyes like that.

"It's possible she was raised elsewhere, as some of us are." It was also possible that the girl wasn't a full-blooded Nord, but she kept that to herself. Bryn's mother clearly had been, and that was what mattered. The girl couldn't have run around in this climate with bare arms and legs without being Nord. Still, Aela had to admit that she was…different.

Vilkas considered this and admitted, "She did tell Kodlak that she had _come to_ Skyrim to seek her fortune."

"There you have it." She tore into the remnants of the game bird in front of her.

"Yes, but—"

"Shor's bones, must you make everything complicated?" she growled with a mouth full of meat.

"I want to know where our newbloods come from, so yes, I must," he responded in aggravation.

"So ask her when she gets back." Aela lifted her pale eyes to his, smirking. "I'm sure the girl would be pleased with your attention." At that Vilkas grumbled and fell silent, uncomfortable. Aela had seen the way the girl looked at him. It was the way Ria once had, and Njada before that, the way women in most towns he went to looked at him. Farkas as well. They were good-looking, for men, Aela supposed. Men weren't exactly her mug of mead. The girl's attraction to Vilkas would go nowhere; relationships between Companions were not forbidden, but Vilkas had never lay down with a shield-sibling and never would, his sense of honor too strong. The crush would run its course, as Ria's and Njada's had. In the meantime, Aela was going to enjoy watching Vilkas squirm.


	3. Chapter 3

Bryn stared at Sinmir in dismay as he unfolded himself from the bench. The man outweighed her by a hundred pounds, at least. She gulped and put up her fists, backing away to the open area in front of the door. The other patrons of the inn started chanting _fight fight fight_ and before she knew it the brute was taking a swing at her. She dodged it then began circling him, looking for an opening. He was wearing iron armor, but it was laced along the sides, really the only soft spot she could see; he was wearing an iron helmet that left his cheeks exposed, but she wasn't about to break her hand on his jaw. Why wasn't there some kind of rule that they had to take off their armor!

"Stand still, damn you," Sinmir cursed.

The Nord took another swing at her, a clumsy one, and Bryn could smell the mead on his breath. So he was slightly drunk then. That was fine; she'd need the advantage. She darted in and hit him in the side.

Sinmir laughed, "Well aren't you the dainty miss. You call that a hit?"

A lovely young but gray-haired woman called to Bryn, "Lay him out flat, girl! Hit him where it hurts!"

The Bard began to beat on his drum, and the distraction caught Bryn's attention long enough for Sinmir to swing again. It was coming for her temple, and she was able to avoid it enough to only get hit on the shoulder, but it hurt like hell. The folk cheered, not seeming to favor any side. Suddenly furious, Bryn yelled and kicked him hard in the breastplate, knocking him back. Another cheer went up and she swung at his ribs again with all her strength, making him cry out in pain.

"I'm going to kill you!" Sinmir growled.

"Ah ah ah," the Bard called out, not missing a beat. "No killing!"

Bryn felt a laugh bubbling up at the absurdity of it all and swung with her left for the other side. She was weaker on the left but he wasn't expecting it and his breath wooshed out of him. When he bent over she kicked him in the seat and the crowd laughed uproariously. Sinmir came up with an elbow that caught her in the thigh, making her cry out in pain, and she screamed and brought both hands down on the exposed back of his neck, landing him on the floor. He laid there a moment, panting, then struggled to his knees, and she put her fists up again.

Sinmir held his hand up and groaned, "Enough." Bryn eyed him suspiciously, wondering if it was a trick, but the patrons groaned in disappointment, so by whatever rules there were the fight seemed to be over. "You're tougher than you look, lass. You got me, fair and square."

"You know what you have to do." She wasn't sure what that was, or what he had done, but she supposed it didn't matter.

"All right, all right. Just leave me alone, I'll take care of it."

"Okay. No hard feelings?"

"Nah." He held his hand out to her and she helped him up, and the crowd cheered as he gave her a hearty pat on the back. "Haven't seen you around here before. Let me buy you a mug."

"Sure." She would sip on it at most to be polite, assuming this was part of the whole ritual of the thing. It was bewildering that he wanted to buy her a drink after that, but she didn't have any hard feelings either, and it had actually been rather fun. It shocked her. Her shoulder and thigh ached, but it would only leave bruises, if she let it, which she wouldn't. Some of the other patrons crowded around as she sat at the bar, and the attention was flattering, if uncomfortable.

The innkeeper Hulda pushed a cold mug in front of her and said, "You must be one of the Companions, eh?"

"Yes. It is…it's actually my first day." She needed to start watching how she modulated her speech; she had gotten a number of strange looks over the last couple days.

Her newness resulted in good-natured ribbing of Sinmir, who rolled his eyes and took it well. Bryn took a drink of the mead and it burned on the way down, but it didn't taste as bad as it had the last time she tried it. It was cold and refreshing, and that was what she needed right now. She was careful not to drink enough to get even tipsy, and she was equally careful in answering the many questions thrown at her. She never lied, but she was careful.

After about half an hour Bryn was finally able to extricate herself from the inn, not wanting Farkas to wonder what was taking her so long. She paused outside the doors and healed herself, feeling the soreness and aches quickly fade. She headed up to the Wind District, feeling warm and happy. So this was what it felt like to belong. She knew she didn't really, not yet, but it was only her first day here and she had already earned the Jarl's attention and a place in the Companions. It was a good start. As she passed a guard near the dead tree he said, "You've been seen in the company of the Companions. That's an honorable path you're on, friend."

"Thank you," she said with a nod. "I'll try to live up to it." He continued on his rounds and she turned towards Jorrvaskr. She hoped Kodlak wasn't busy so she could talk to him a bit more. He'd seemed a good man. She needed to make sure it was all right for her to leave Jorrvaskr to do the errand for Farengar and the Jarl. She was sure it would be all right. It had to be. If she had to choose between making the Companions happy or the Jarl, she had to choose the Jarl, of course.

Farkas was right inside the doors, as if waiting for her, and indeed he said, "I've been waiting. What took so long?"

"I took care of the problem. But Sinmir wanted to buy me a drink afterward."

Farkas laughed, "Did he now. Good on him." He looked her over and said, "And not a mark on you. You seem to have a knack for this sort of thing. I'll make sure to let people in charge know. Here, your share." He handed over a small bag of gold, but to Bryn it looked like a fortune.

"Thank you!"

Farkas winked at her. "Until next time."

"Yes." He walked away and she watched him go, unable to help admiring. He certainly was a fine-looking man, and apparently not as slow as she'd first thought. He was one of the biggest men she'd ever seen, much bulkier than his brother, though Vilkas was not a small man by any means. She was sure the two of them were popular with the ladies, and if both of them were out together…well, the women wouldn't stand a chance. She sighed and went downstairs, feeling a sudden sadness along with an aching loneliness. She had to wonder if any man in Skyrim would want her, once they really got to know her, know her background. Somehow she doubted it. Back in Cyrodiil, in the very metropolitan Imperial City, it wouldn't have been as much of an issue, or so she thought. Here it probably would be, and she couldn't avoid talking about her past forever. She would put it off as long as she could though.

Kodlak was at his desk, writing in what looked to be a journal, and it reminded her that she needed to pick up one of her own to keep track of the little tidbits of information and potential jobs she might pick up. She deliberately made noise as she walked, and Kodlak glanced up at her and gave her a smile and a nod. She waited while he blew on the ink to dry it then closed the journal with a loop and catch then set it aside. He motioned to a nearby chair and she took a seat.

"Vilkas says you did well in the yard," Kodlak stated.

"I'm...very flattered." And surprised, frankly. She glanced at him then away again, finding the intensity of his pale eyes disconcerting. As if he was looking into her soul. "I just finished my first assignment. I…straightened him out, and he bought me a drink afterward."

"This surprises you?"

"I, ah…I'm not yet used to the customs of, of Skyrim." She'd nearly said _the customs of Nords_. She was a Nord.

"Yes, I noticed your accent. I can't quite place it." The girl's eyes shifted to the doorway nervously. "You can close that, if you'd like. The others know better than to eavesdrop." She bit her lip and shook her head, and he went on, "So, tell me a bit about yourself. How long have you been in Skyrim?"

"Only a couple days."

"Really," he said in surprise. He hadn't been expecting that. "How did you get across the border? It's been closed for some time now."

"My cousin. He...ah, helped me across." The waver in her voice was all too apparent to her and she hoped the old man didn't notice. He didn't seem to. "I ran into Aela, Ria and Farkas on the way here, fighting a giant."

"Yes, she told me. I'm glad she mentioned us to you."

"How did you come to join the Companions?" she asked. She could only deflect the questions for so long, but she was going to do so for as long as she could.

"Ah. Well, like most of this band, I found this family after losing my own. I traveled the length and breadth of this land, learning all I could of the sword, and the axe. I was just a boy, but I had the fire of a man in my heart. Eventually, my body caught up with my spirit." He went on to tell her how he had become the bodyguard of a lord in Hammerfell, and while in his employ had met the previous Harbinger, Askar. He had left the lord's employ and began to follow Askar and had returned with him to Skyrim, and realized it was where he was meant to be. He had lost his parents, his grandparents, but the Companions had become his family after that. He had been Harbinger for over twenty years now. "And you?" he prompted. "You aren't from Skyrim. So where were you raised?" The girl was a good listener, and very good at avoiding talking about herself, he'd noticed.

"I was raised in Cyrodiil. The Imperial City." He made some small sound in acknowledgment. "My parents…my birth parents…I never knew them. They died when I was less than a year old. I was raised by my aunt, my father's sister, and eventually her husband when she married a few years later. She had a baby of her own soon after, my cousin, and raised us both side by side. She was all the mother I've ever known."

"Then you will fit in here. All of us are orphans of a sort. How did your parents die?"

"In battle, so Aunt…so my aunt said. She was very fond of her brother, younger than her. He was a battlemage, and my mother Heska was a warrior. They met in the Legion, and died there, fighting the Thalmor."

"Battlemage," Kodlak said with interest. "There aren't too many Nord battlemages, or Nord mages in general. What was his name?"

"I doubt you would know of him, sir—"

"That is irrelevant. I asked you a question." Bryn went suddenly rigid at the curt tone of his voice, blinking rapidly. He leaned back in his seat, feeling the rot in his gut begin to burn again, making his temper unfortunately short. He sighed and said, "Look lass, we all have demons stuffed away in a chest somewhere. Every person here has things in their past they aren't proud of, myself included, in fact myself more than most, I would say."

"I have done nothing I should be ashamed of."

"And yet you are ashamed. Why is that?"

"I-I am not ashamed," she said in a tremulous voice, lifting her chin.

"You hide who, or what you are. You are being quite careful in that regard, I've noticed." Her eyes flicked to the doorway again at the sound of footsteps. "Out with it, girl, or I may have to reconsider my decision earlier today." Not that he would. Never. She just needed that extra push.

"You would throw me out, when I have done nothing?" Her voice broke as she added, "I will do whatever I need to, to bring honor to the Companions—"

"Except trust the folk that will become your family, if you let them," he said more gently. "I would not throw you out for something you cannot help, something that should not even have to be helped. Family, and honor. That's what it means to be one of us, girl." He looked her over then stated, "You are not a full-blooded Nord, are you." Bryn shuddered, her eyes as huge as a terrified deer's. He had seen plenty of eyes like that in his younger days while traveling the world. She looked ready to flee, and he brought his hand down heavily on her arm as he leaned forward and said intently, "No one here would turn you out over something as inconsequential as the circumstances of your birth, or the folk who raised you." She still trembled but her anxiety eased somewhat. "And those folk were?"

"Altmer," she whispered, her eyes darting to the door again. He motioned for her to go on. "My father was an Elf, a High Elf battlemage. His name was Ennescar. My aunt's name was Elluhrine. She raised me. With my cousin Yancarro. He was the one who…he is the reason I am here." Kodlak gave her arm a pat then let go with a sigh. She went on in slow, heartbroken words, "My parents were not married, Auntie said. She said I'm…I was, a mistake, but one she could not regret."

"Cruel words, if kindly intended, and who is to say if they were true? She was not there, was she." Bryn shook her head, close to tears. So Altmer blood had given her those goldish eyes and her height and pale hair. It was obvious now that he knew it. "Many Nords do not marry, those who cling to the old ways, in the remote villages. A man and woman pledge their troth and create a home together, and it is considered as binding as any marriage and the children as legitimate as any. For some time the teachings of the Temple of Mara have held sway, and neither way is better than the other. I have never been married. I've never felt the need. This is all the family I have ever desired, and it is more than enough. Glory in battle, honor in life, and the love and respect of your shield-siblings; that is the way of the Companions." She didn't respond in any way, looking miserable. "What is your fear? Our Shield-Brother Athis is an Elf."

"He is Dunmer. He is not the kind of mer that most Nords detest."

"Nords detest the Thalmor," he corrected.

"But Ralof—"

"Ralof," Kodlak muttered with a frown. He shifted in his seat, ignoring the throbbing pain that had spread under his ribs. "That is the name of one of Ulfric Stormcloak's lieutenants. Surely you aren't mixed up with that lot."

"No, I swear I am not. I…I'm still not sure what happened. Yancarro…he hated me," she whispered. The footsteps had receded and a door had closed, but she was still anxious about being overheard. "Our whole lives he hated me, because my aunt cosseted me but not him. She said he was born with a purpose, out of duty, but my only purpose was to be loved, even if I was…mixed."

Kodlak grunted, his eyes still narrowed. It never ceased to amaze him, the damage some folk unwittingly caused to their children. Family was everything to Nords. Who knew what family meant to Altmer, even the lowest of which lived under the Aldmeri Dominion's thumb nowadays? It seemed the girl had been loved by her Elven aunt, but it couldn't have been the warm love a human mother would give a child of her own womb. If anything it sounded like the love one had for a pet.

Bryn went on, "My uncle never warmed to me. He kept treating me as a servant, telling Auntie that he…well, he said I was a Nord cow and good for nothing but scrubbing floors." Kodlak said nothing, his expression not changing. "I kept trying to run away, from the time I was little, and someone always caught me and brought me back, either my aunt or grandmother or the neighbors or the city guards. We lived in the Elven Gardens district, and there was no way out but through the gates, or the sewers. I got good at hiding from everyone, but I could never find a way out that I wasn't too scared to use, and by time I was an adult I stopped trying. For the last few years Yancarro has been civil to me, lately kind even, and he offered to escort me across the border so I could look for my mother's family, somewhere in The Rift. It was nothing but a trick. Once we got partway into the Pale Pass he charmed me and…" She swallowed hard. "He hacked off my hair. It was down to my waist. He grabbed the braid and hacked it off, and he made me change into rags and armed me, then he bashed me in the head. Next thing I knew I was in a cart with Ulfric and Ralof, and some poor horse thief."

"Well then, you were lucky, weren't you?"

"Was I?" she said with grief.

"Yes, you were. And maybe something more than that, but yes, you are lucky you weren't killed. Better sad than dead, girl." He stared at her a moment and she gazed back with an anguish-filled expression. "If you were with Ulfric and his close circle, and you ended up here, then you must have been at Helgen. I've heard rumors today that Ulfric escaped from Helgen. That there was a dragon there."

"Yes," she whispered. "That's why I came to Whiterun. To tell Jarl Balgruuf about the dragon. It was only chance that I saw Aela and the others fighting the giant."

"Again, luck was with you." She shrugged listlessly, but Kodlak had chills running up his spine that quieted the ache in his gut. Yes, the girl was operating on more than luck. Much more. He had known that before he'd ever met her, but now…now he felt it in his bones, seeing his dreams made real. "So. You came down here for a reason, lass, and it wasn't to keep an old man company or make small talk."

"This was small talk?" He barked out a laugh then began coughing, waving Bryn off when she moved to get his mug and offer him a drink. "You're sick," she said with concern.

"Aye, but it's nothing a healer can fix. I have seen enough of them to know." She gazed at him with worry, those lovely golden eyes so large and childlike in her thin face. Her concern was touching for someone she had only met that morning. "How old are you, girl?"

"Twenty-seven." His eyebrows rose slightly then he reached for his mug himself. She knew she looked young for her age. Maybe it was a product of her Altmer blood, or the extremely sheltered life she had lived. She didn't know any other half-Elves, so she had no way of knowing how she was going to age.

"Vilkas said you moved as if you've had training."

"Some. My aunt was a battlemage in her youth, as my father was. They joined the Legion together. They were not Thalmor sympathizers, but when the Dominion took over she laid down arms and accepted the husband they arranged for her, so she despises them no matter her heritage. She trained me some, in the sword and bow. I am much better with the bow."

"Yes, Aela was impressed, and that is no small thing."

"She tried to teach me magic, but I have no gift for it. I can manage only a small healing spell that I learned as a child." He made a sound of sudden understanding and nodded, looking over her unmarked skin. Feeling better to have gotten this all out in the open, she said in a stronger tone, "But as to why I am here…I know I just arrived, but I owe an errand to the Jarl. His court wizard, Farengar, has been studying dragons for some time. It was an academic exercise, until recently. He wants me to fetch something for him, a stone he said might help him understand more about the dragons. I may be gone for a while, I don't know how long."

"Your life is your own, lass. If you have business to attend to, then do it, and no one will gainsay you. I would only suggest that you let one of the Circle know when you are leaving, so no one worries, and perhaps give a general idea of where you are going."

"For now, Riverwood again, then Bleakstone Barrow."

Kodlak frowned anew. "Burial crypts are no place to be poking around," he stated sternly. "I cannot imagine what the Jarl and his pet mage were thinking to send a green girl into such a place. And unfortunately I cannot in good conscience send a shield-sibling with you. It is not Companion business."

"I understand. I didn't expect any help."

As she stood he flicked his fingers at her armor. "That will not do. Eorlund is rather possessive of his precious Skyforge, but Adrianne Avenicci is always looking for help. The poor lass is overworked. Perhaps she will help you adjust the fit of your armor, in exchange for some assistance at the forge."

"I was thinking that earlier. I'll do that before I go."

Kodlak shook his head as he turned back to his desk. "Do it now, then come back here and rest another night and set out tomorrow. This is your first day here. Tonight you will sleep in a warm dry bed on a full stomach, in the company of your shield-siblings."

"Yes, Harbinger."

"Good lass."

Effectively dismissed, Bryn left Kodlak's quarters, stopping by the common quarters to grab her pack, intending to sell the old Imperial armor Hadvar had given her, now that she had a somewhat better version. She didn't like what she was wearing, feeling half-naked, and wondered if she could trade it in for something that provided a bit more cover, and maybe some regular clothes while she was at it. She hoped it wouldn't hurt the Jarl's feelings or anger him, but then he probably wouldn't even notice from the haphazard way he had picked it out of a chest and tossed it at her.

She made her way to Belethor's shop and sold off the spare armor, buying a blank journal, a pencil, and a map of Skyrim, getting in and out as quickly as she could. Down by the city gates she saw the Jarl's housecarl, Irileth, ordering three of the guards out to Riverwood. Bryn wasn't too impressed with their whining about having to face a dragon, but the Dunmer woman quickly put them in their place.

Bryn snorted a laugh and turned into Warmaiden's smithy area, seeing the Imperial woman hard at work. Adrianne glanced up from her grindstone and said, "Got some good pieces out here if you're looking to buy. More inside."

"Maybe later," Bryn answered. "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation this morning and wondered if you needed some help around the forge."

The woman smiled and said brightly, "Why yes, actually! Why don't you smith me an iron dagger. Here's everything you need, go ahead." Bryn accepted the ingot and leather but stared at it helplessly. Adrianne said with less enthusiasm, "You don't know how to smith, do you."

"Well no, but I am eager to learn. I've watched smiths before, many times. I'd like to help, truly."

"All right then," the woman said more gently. "At least you're willing, which is more than I can say for anyone else around here." She'd lose productive time showing the girl the ropes, but gain more in the end for having some help. She led Bryn over to the forge and began showing her the basics, making small talk as they did so. She told the girl that the Jarl's steward was her father, which Bryn had guessed. Adrianne was shocked however to learn that Bryn had become one of the Companions, just that morning. "That's surprising," she stated as she watched Bryn cool the small, glowing blade. "That lot won't usually lower themselves to do any _real_ work. Spend their days killing things and their nights singing and swilling mead, though I have to admit that their deeds are truly the stuff of legend. Meanwhile Tilma cleans up the mess and Eorlund mends their armor and sharpens their weapons. Not that he would let any of them near the Skyforge." She shook her head and said, "I certainly don't claim to be the best blacksmith in Whiterun. Eorlund Gray-Mane has that honor, without a doubt. Man's steel is legendary. All I'm asking is a fair price for my work."

"But is his steel legendary because of his skill, or because he works the Skyforge?"

Adrianne grinned at her and said, "I like how you think. Come on, let's get you started."

Over the next hour Adrianne helped Bryn learn the basics of smithing, pleased with the girl's quick progress. She told her that if she weren't already a Companion she would hire her on the spot as an assistant. Bryn said in a wistful tone, "I appreciate the offer. I really do. I'll see if I can stop in here every so often to lend a hand, if that's all right. I don't need payment, but if I could use your equipment once in a while in trade, just to keep up my gear…"

"Of course, of course. And feel free to sell me any arms or armor you come across in your travels. Ulfberth and I are always looking for more exotic stock for the shop. I'm so busy smithing for the Legion that I don't have much time to work on the more interesting stuff."

"I'm free the rest of the afternoon. I'd be glad to work on anything else you feel good about me handling."

Adrianne beamed. "That would be marvelous. You do seem to have a talent for this work. How about you sharpen that stack of blades under the workbench while I go inside for a bit?"

Bryn noticed the woman suddenly looked a bit pale under her tan, though her poise hadn't faltered. "Do you feel all right?"

The smith waved her off and shook her head, saying, "Oh, I'm fine, fine, just need to eat something. I ah, probably shouldn't say anything so soon, but we just found out we're expecting, and Ulfberth is worried sick. He knows I have to work long hours, but the old bear makes me come in between noon and two every day to sit for a while and eat and rest. Not that I need it, but it makes him feel better."

"Congratulations," Bryn said with a brief smile. "That's wonderful." She couldn't help feeling a pang of envy. It had to be pleasant to be settled, with a career and a loving, protective husband and a little one growing in the womb. The shop was right at the gate so Adrianne could watch everyone come and go. It seemed a nice life, but Bryn wasn't meant for such things, it seemed. Not yet. Some day she would have that big blond Nord husband of her dreams, once she had made a name and fortune for herself. Maybe he wouldn't even need to be blond. Her mind had kept wandering back to Vilkas in a rather annoying fashion all day long. The man had come off as gruff and unfriendly, but by Dibella he was handsome, and so tall. She didn't run across men taller than her too often.

"Thank you, we both think so. We tried a long time for this one, been married quite a few years and thought it would never happen. So don't tell anyone. Wouldn't want to jinx it."

"I promise, on my honor."

"That's good enough for me."

The smith went inside and Bryn soon settled into the rhythm of whetting blades, and before she knew it Adrianne's lunchtime was over and the smith was eyeing Bryn's work with approval. In payment she let Bryn keep the dagger and helmet she'd made earlier, and also helped her improve the fit of her armor and boots. She also told Bryn about the many kinds of ore deposits that could be found around Skyrim, easily mined by those who knew how. Bryn continued working with the smith the rest of the day, enjoying the work and the company. Adrianne told her everything she knew about Whiterun, the Jarl, her father, and the political climate as she knew it. Bryn felt she had a much better picture of the situation by time the day ended. Adrianne asked her one last favor, to take a greatsword she had forged for the Jarl up to her father, and she easily agreed to it, heading that general direction.

Bryn took her leave and ran the entire way to Dragonsreach, and she was relieved when she was able to catch Proventus' eye at the dinner table and not the Jarl's; she didn't want him to think she was slacking on performing her errand. The sword was quickly delivered and she was soon twenty septims richer. She ran down to Belethor's for the third time that day, earning a leering comment from the Breton about not being able to stay away from him. She soon had herself a cheap but presentable wool dress, cotton undershift and soft leather shoes to change into; though the armor no longer jangled or chafed, she didn't want to spend every waking moment in it. Belethor was more than happy to let her use a small room to change, and she kept a nervous eye on the walls, wondering if the creepy little man was looking through a hidden peephole somewhere.

When she opened the doors to Jorrvaskr she was met with a hearty greeting from the gathered warriors around the table, all but Njada, and she felt her face turn bright pink. Everyone was there except Kodlak, which worried her. She wondered what affliction he had that kept him downstairs.

Farkas called out, "Hey little sister! I saved a spot for you, right by me. Tilma cooked up something really good for your first dinner here." Bryn grinned and came over to join him, dropping her pack by a bench on the way. He looked her over, saying, "You look nice. You clean up real good."

"Um, thanks, you look nice too," she said, her voice coming out in an undignified squeak that Farkas didn't seem to notice. The Companions were all out of their armor and clean of warpaint, and the big man next to her was certainly an impressive sight, a damn handsome man for sure. He didn't do for her what his brother did, which was odd considering they were identical twins, but he was easy on the eyes.

He set a mug of mead in front of her, some of it sloshing over onto the table, making Tilma cluck her tongue from where she turned the spit over the fire. "Here little bird, drink up. Though you look a lot less like a bird now with those skinny arms and legs covered up."

"Put a sock in it, lout," Aela chided on the other side of him. "You'll give the girl a complex."

"I'm a little drunk, Aela-"

Torvar called out in a slurred voice, "No, you're a big drunk."

The others laughed as Farkas said agreeably, "Pot and kettle, my friend. Pot and kettle." He patted Bryn's shoulder, making her nearly spill her drink. "I'm not really a drunk, you know. Everybody likes to have a drink now and then, and tonight's special."

"I understand," Bryn answered.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and said with a grin, "Something tells me you've never been drunk."

"You would be correct, and I never will."

"Ha, we'll see about that!"

"You're free to try," she said with an answering grin. "It won't get you anywhere."

Farkas slammed his meaty fist on the table, making the food jump and Aela growl in annoyance. "I like a challenge!"

Bryn had every intention of sticking to her word, but somehow Farkas and Torvar managed to get her there sip by sip, making her quickly lose count of how much she had drunk, and before she knew it she was laughing hysterically over some fantastic tale being spun, and an hour later dancing an Elven reel to the tune of Athis' flute. The gathered Companions clapped in time as she kicked off her shoes and lifted her skirts, and she was soon joined by Torvar and Ria. They didn't know the steps but danced along anyway, Bryn taking Torvar's hands to guide him. She felt someone turn her around and she was then dancing with Farkas, unable to help doubling over with laughter every so often; he was a decent dancer, his feet sure, but he was deliberately being comical, and she had never seen anything so funny, though maybe it was only that funny because she was so incredibly drunk.

Farkas let her go, handing her over to Vignar of all people, and Athis thoughtfully slowed the tune a bit to suit the old gentleman's taste. She heard a lute join the song and it switched to something she wasn't familiar with, though the pace was even and easy to follow. The clapping continued and she went to Skjor and pulled him to his feet, and while he grumbled a bit he went along agreeably, making Aela and the others cheer anew, even Njada. He was soon smiling and dancing along with her, surprisingly skilled at it, making her wonder where he had learned such a thing.

Bryn soon worked her way through all the men, even Brill, except for Vilkas, who stayed in his seat, though he clapped and smiled with the others. Bryn spun her way over to his seat and held her hands out, saying breathlessly, "Dance with me, Vilkas!"

He laughed into his mug and muttered, "I don't think so, girl." She was wearing only her shift, having pulled off her wool dress at some point during the dancing, and the fire backlit her body in a way that told him it would be a very bad idea indeed to lay hands on her. While everyone else was at least a bit tipsy, he was entirely sober; he had never been much of a drinker and handled alcohol much more poorly than his brother. That didn't change the fact that watching her dance had been an exercise in extreme frustration, and denying the call of the Blood for the last several weeks had been torture and was making his self-control an iffy prospect at best.

"No fair," she pouted. "Everyone else has danced but you." He shrugged, not looking at her. She crossed her arms and said, "You know, maybe other women find your brooding mysterious and alluring, but I just find it annoying."

The others, watching, roared with laughter over that, and Farkas yelled, "Yeah, how many times have I told you that, brother? How many times!" Fresh laughter ran through the hall.

Vilkas growled in aggravation and set down his mug with extreme care, and feeling sorry for him Bryn said, "I was just joking, but dance with me, please!"

"No."

"Dance!" she cried, stamping her foot.

"No. Go away." Vilkas sputtered as the girl threw herself into his lap, and before he could stop her, her arms went around his neck. The others whistled and she gazed into his eyes with those unsettling golden ones of hers, thick-lashed and exotic, even more unsettling now that he knew where they had come from. Kodlak had gathered the Circle earlier that afternoon to make them aware of Bryn's background and let them know that she was sensitive about it. It offended Vilkas a bit to realize that Kodlak was implying that no one should give her a hard time about being half-Elven. As if he would, though that didn't make him any more comfortable with it. He had definite strong feelings about Elves, Altmer in particular. It wasn't the girl's fault, what she was, and he wouldn't hold it against her, but it made him uneasy. Her gaze softened as her eyes dilated and she smiled hesitantly at him, and as she shifted he felt a pang of hot desire go through him that made him suddenly furious and afraid all at once. And her ass was bony as hell on his leg.

Seeing his brother's already poor mood turn foul, Farkas plucked the girl out of Vilkas' lap and slung her over his shoulder, making her squeal in offense and the others laugh anew. Farkas wasn't so tipsy that he hadn't kept an eye on the girl the whole time, feeling responsible for her since he had deliberately gotten her drunk. She had been having a wonderful time until Vilkas' difficult nature had soured everything. No one but Farkas had seemed to notice the sudden violent shift in his mood or how angry he had become. His twin had always had the more fiery nature, was more quick to aggravation, and he was prone to brooding as Bryn had noted, but he had been having more trouble than usual the last few weeks. Farkas knew why and regretted it, not really missing it all that much himself, but then he didn't make things complicated. Vilkas couldn't help it. Vilkas was complicated.

"All right, little bird," Farkas chided. "Enough of that. Come have a seat and get some food in you—"

"No, I want more mead!" she demanded.

"Nope, you're cut off."

"I said _more mead_!" she shouted, punctuating the last two words with slaps to his backside. That sent the others into hysterics and he laughed, "Naughty girl," and paid her back in kind, making her yelp. He dumped her into her chair and she took a swing at him, but he laughed and caught her fist. She subsided in a pout, swaying a bit in her chair, and he pushed a fresh mug to her. She picked it up greedily and took a deep drink and nearly spit it out when she realized it was water. She grumbled and drank it down then took a few bites of food before she began to eat in earnest. She brightened when Farkas put a sweetroll in front of her, though as she stared at it her expression quickly fell again.

"Oh Farkas," she said sadly in a slurred voice, staring at the confection in front of her. "Did you know I've never had a sweetroll? How can I go all my life without ever having a sweetroll?"

"You've got one now, sister. Eat up."

"I can't. I'll get fat. I don't want to end up some fat Nord cow. I'll eat us all out of house and home." The muted conversation stilled at that.

"Aw, c'mon, who told you that? Be a good girl and eat your sweetroll. You can have as many as you want."

"No I can't. I can't ever have anything I want. Why can't I ever have anything I want? What did I ever do to deserve that except be born?"

Seeing her suddenly close to tears, Farkas sighed, "All right, off to bed." He'd seen plenty a drunk get melancholy, but this was more than that, and probably nothing she wanted aired in front of everyone. The others all looked uncomfortable or worried, though Aela looked both angry and worried, staring at the girl with flared nostrils, a clear sign she was feeling agitated.

"No, I don't want to go to bed," Bryn stated, her voice trembling. "I'm having fun. Can't you see how much fun I'm having?"

"Sure can. Let's go." She refused to stand, and he sighed again and pulled her chair back then scooped her out of it. She didn't protest this time. He carried her across the hall, hearing soft calls of goodnight that she didn't answer, burying her face in the front of his shirt as she began to sniffle and shake. Vilkas was already gone.

Tilma shook her head as she mopped up a puddle of spilled ale on the floor, saying, "I'd love to tan the hide of whoever it was that damaged that poor child."

The tension eased, Skjor stated firmly, "She has this family now. She'll learn to deal with her demons, just as the rest of us have."

"Oh I know, I know. It just makes me sad." The old woman clucked her tongue. "The poor thing."


	4. Chapter 4

Bryn sat impatiently in the downstairs hall near the door by the stairs, nibbling at some apples and the sweetroll she hadn't touched last night. Farkas had insisted she finish it before leaving, and she had promised she would, though her stomach was still queasy. Somehow she hadn't vomited this morning, though hearing Torvar do so nearly made her lose it. The man actually kept a bucket under his bed for that express purpose, something she found revolting. The others hadn't blinked an eye, in fact they had acted as if everything were normal, as if she hadn't made an ass of herself the night before, in fact they all seemed to have warmed a bit to her, except Njada, of course, which didn't matter. She decided that if they weren't going to let it bother her, then she wouldn't. She wasn't entirely successful, but she could move on.

The person she was waiting for finally came out of his room and down the hall, hesitating briefly before continuing on, avoiding her eyes, his steel armor clanking softly. He reached the door, ignoring her, and she stood and whispered, "Please, Vilkas, I…" He stopped, his hand tightening on the handle. She could see the muscles along his jaw clench. "I'm sorry. I apologize for my behavior. It was shameful, drunk or not." She was surprised to see a faint blush rise on his cheeks beneath the warpaint but he stayed silent. She swallowed and said in a shaking voice, "I have caused offense. I see that." He took a deep breath then let it out slowly but still didn't answer. "If I have caused offense…please, tell me how to make amends. I—"

"Don't let it happen again," he said curtly, staring at the carvings on the door. "That is all. Just… don't."

"All right. I promise," she whispered, nodding. He grumbled and went through the door, slamming it shut behind him. She swallowed hard and listened to his heavy steps on the stairs then they were gone.

She sank back into the chair and began forcing down the apples and sweetroll, the pastry not as delicious as she had hoped it would be. Nothing ever was. It was obvious that Vilkas was uncomfortable around her now, more so than before, and she had no idea how to fix it other than to leave him alone. Maybe with time he would warm to her, enough to be at least civil. It wasn't as if he hated her. Surely he didn't. She might have been drunk last night but she remembered everything. She remembered seeing him laugh and clap, though not as enthusiastically as the others had, his smile every bit as beautiful as Farkas'. She remembered him watching her dance through those intense eyes, especially after she had gotten too hot and sweaty and thrown off her wool overdress. The memory of that made her groan in humiliation through a mouthful of pastry. She had found the dress neatly turned right-side out and folded by her bed this morning, probably by Tilma, along with her pack. The cleaning woman had been up before everyone else, bright and early. Bryn couldn't imagine when she found time to sleep.

Bryn finished her meal and set the mug on the plate for Tilma then hefted her pack onto her shoulder and went upstairs, as ready to set out as she was going to be. Her pack was full of necessities, leaving her much better prepared than when she had set out from Riverwood: plenty of dried trail food and a canteen of water; a few minor healing and magicka potions; a firestarter; her map, journal and pencil in a side pocket. Her bow and quiver were on her back along with the shield; Farkas had shown her this morning how to arrange her gear more efficiently, to be more comfortable and more easily accessed during battle. She felt a swell of affection for the big, kind man. He had taken her to his room last night and held her on his lap as she cried, listening patiently as she wept and told him her life's story in pathetic, sordid detail. He hadn't even blinked an eye when she'd blown her nose on his shirt, something that had horrified her when morning had come. He had let her fall asleep in his bed as he'd patted her back and the next thing she had known she was waking up in her own bed in the common quarters. She had never in her life been treated with such unselfish decency, and she loved him for it. He didn't move her the way Vilkas did, for some reason, even though they were identical twins, but she loved him. She might have even told him that, when she was drunk.

She went silently up the stairs, feeling a pang of grief. She wished she had been drunk enough to not remember anything. Not remember how Vilkas had felt underneath her, how he had smelled, so warm and cleanly masculine, his pale gray eyes blazing like stars. Up close they had been stunning, almost silver, with a ring of darker gray around the outside of the iris. And then the fury had come, like a sudden bolt of lightning, as if she were repugnant to him. Farkas had said last night that Kodlak had told the Circle about her background, that everyone was fine with it and it wasn't an issue. Something about her though had offended Vilkas, maybe even had from the very start, and she had no idea what it was. She had spent all morning running over it in her head, trying to figure out what was wrong with her, wondering what it was about her that bothered Vilkas, hoping it was something she could fix. She had no idea how to make it right with him, because surely ignoring him and staying away from him wouldn't do it. She knew that much.

Aela was waiting at the front door, face painted and skimpy armor on, and the other woman gave her one of her brief, cool smiles as Bryn approached. She said, "I see you made it to morning. Torvar's rather proud of you. He says you didn't even puke."

Bryn glanced at the man, who was leaning on one hand at the table, looking ill, but he grinned at her with bleary eyes and gave her a thumbs up. "She's a champ," he said with pride. "We'll see how round two goes tonight." Bryn made a sound of horror and shook her head vehemently.

Aela rolled her eyes at the man then said to Bryn, "Once was enough, eh?"

"Most certainly," she stated. Torvar made a sound of disappointment and went back to poking at his breakfast. Bryn's eyes scanned the hall and she saw that Vignar's door was still closed; Athis was heading out the back door to the practice yard; Skjor was polishing his armor at a side table; Vilkas was in his usual spot at the right hand end of the table, slowly chewing his food and staring at the ever-present fire, pointedly ignoring her, his eyes narrowed. Maybe he was always like this. Maybe it wasn't just her.

"Good girl. Now, focus," she ordered, grabbing her shoulders. Bryn's eyes returned to her and the young woman nodded seriously, her attention on Aela, standing up tall. By the Nines the girl was tall, even for a Nord, as tall as Kodlak, though not nearly as tall as the twins, who were some of the tallest men she had ever met. "Kodlak told us where you're going today. So. Focus."

"Yes."

"Keep your wits about you. I have never ventured into one of those crypts, and I don't plan to, but I have heard enough about them. Be quiet and the dead will most likely stay that way, but if you go banging around in there, Arkay knows what will happen. The draugr have been sleeping for thousands of years, but every so often…_something_ wakes them up. I've heard you can tell the ones that still have some sort of unlife in them, as opposed to the truly dead. Look for the ones whose armor is still intact, who still have more flesh on their bones. Put an arrow into them first chance you get. I've seen your aim, and it's good. Take them out before they even awake and you might make it out without ever having to engage hand-to-hand. If nothing else, you'll have some damage in before that." Bryn nodded seriously. "If you see one leaning back as if to take a deep breath, spin away to the side. It's the _thu'um_—"

"The what?"

"The _thu'um_. A Shout." The girl looked perplexed. "Ah, I forget. Well, suffice it to say that I've heard some of them can do it, as the Tongues of old. Knocks you flat on your back, and they hack into you while you're still trying to regain your feet. If it looks like they're getting ready to Shout at you, drop to the floor or spin away to the side. It'll lessen the impact."

"I'll remember," she said in a serious tone. When Aela had nothing else to add she asked, "Are there any taboos I should be wary of breaking? I'm still unaware of so many Nord customs, and I don't want to cause any offense in a place of the dead."

Aela snorted and let her hands fall. "The dead can't be offended that I'm aware of. I'd say that whatever you find in there is yours to keep. The dead have no use for gold or trinkets."

Bryn glanced at the hall and no one disagreed, or even seemed to care. "What of bandits? What should I do if I encounter them? What are the rules?"

Torvar responded to that, saying wryly, "Rules? Ain't no rules when it comes to that, sister. Strip them of everything of value and leave the carcasses to the bears and wolves. Can make a pretty septim that way." He ended the advice with a resounding belch.

"Oh, I…see. Yes. I will remember that." She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "I am off, then."

"All right. Be careful out there. I wish you could take a shield-sibling with you, but…well."

"I know. Thank you. I'll be back soon."

"See to it, sister."

Bryn smiled gratefully at her then Aela turned away, heading for Skjor, who looked up from his work and gave Bryn a brief salute. She smiled and nodded in reply. Torvar had laid his head on the table. Her eyes moved to Vilkas and he quickly looked away to the back door. As if he had been watching her. She bit her lip and left. It was no use trying to figure out what was in that man's head. A complete waste of time. She told herself that, but she thought about it—and him—all the way to Riverwood.

"Bear, moth, owl," Bryn whispered. "Seems simple." Ridiculously so. She stared at the golden claw in her hand, taking the opportunity to rest a bit and drink some water; if she hadn't yet unlocked the door, nothing else could come through the other side. Gods only knew what the door was keeping in, since it surely wasn't keeping much of anyone out. The few puzzles she had come across had been simple, easily solved as this one had been.

She had made her way through the levels of the barrow with only slight difficulty; Aela's advice had been spot on. Bryn had shot every bonewalker she had found sleeping in their niches, finishing off with her mace any that hadn't been taken down by the first shot or two. The creatures were stupid as well, easily tricked and sloppy fighters, if brutal, as if their desiccated brains were no longer capable of anything but instinct. She longed for a sword, but the dry bodies were most likely best dealt with this way. It had been hard to recover her iron arrows though, most of them getting caught in the bones and snapping off, becoming useless. She had been able to take a number of ancient arrows from the creatures' quivers, but the shafts felt brittle with age and she was reluctant to use them; she was saving those to use as last resort.

It had been the bandits that had troubled Bryn most; they were clever fighters, cunning, quick, and not easily tricked. She had only been able to get in a few shots in stealth and the rest had to be finished off by hand, something that had nearly been the end of her several times. She'd quickly gone through her potions but had her healing magic to fall back on, and she silently thanked her aunt for drilling the skill into her. She hadn't liked killing actual people, but she wasn't going to lose sleep over it either; the bandits wouldn't hesitate to kill her, not for one second. It was the Stormcloak deaths she had caused that still haunted her. Hadvar had wanted to reason with them and they wouldn't listen. The fighting had been so very unnecessary, and he had been even more upset about it than her. Hadvar had been raised here, so those really were what he considered kinsmen.

She wondered where Hadvar was now; he hadn't been in Riverwood, so he was most likely on his way to Solitude to report in. She wondered if he had thought about her at all. Alvor had seemed pleased to see her, if a bit distant, and had been interested to hear that she had tried her hand at smithing and suggested someone named Balimund in Riften as a skilled teacher. She thought she might look him up some day if she had time. The Valerius siblings had been nice enough, though their bickering had quickly gotten old, and there seemed to be some rivalry over Camilla between the town Bard and the Bosmer, Faendal, that she refused to get involved in. She hoped Lucan had the decency to give her a price break once she got the claw back to him.

"All right then," she said firmly, putting her canteen away, ready to move on. It was a simple matter to spin the stone rings into position and fit the claw into the lock. The door slid down into the ground with a rumbling, grinding sound that she was sure could be heard for miles, making her grit her teeth.

A stairway led up, lit by braziers, and for the hundredth time she wondered who was maintaining the things down here. Maybe it was the draugr, going about their routine by mindless habit, who knew. The stairs led up to a large chamber, and her eyes were drawn to the large engraved wall behind a sealed crypt. She had never seen anything like it, capped by a stylized dragon's head, though of course in her sheltered life she hadn't seen much of anything. She crept along the right hand side of the chamber, keeping her eye on the crypt. The dragonstone she was here for was undoubtedly up there, along with whatever new horror was sleeping in the sarcophagus; it was too much to hope that its occupant was truly dead. She just wasn't going to get that lucky.

Bryn cringed as bats flew past her, but it told her an exit was nearby, and indeed the air in here smelled fresh. A waterfall flowed down on either side of the wall, and she crept off to the right to refill her nearly empty canteen. Once that was done she slipped across the bridge, never taking her eyes off the crypt, and made sure to take out her mace and shield as a precaution. She stepped softly toward the stairs leading up to the crypt, then she stopped still in her tracks as a soft murmur sounded in her mind. She glanced around in confusion and slowly moved forward, hearing the murmur grow into chanting. It was coming from the wall.

Unable to help herself, Bryn walked woodenly towards the arc of carved stone, seeing indecipherable runes, one set of them starting to glow bright blue and crackle. The chant became deafening, and she stiffened then fell to her knees with a gasp as the glow reached out and wrapped around her, making her vision go black as pressure filled her head. "Fus!" she cried, unable to stop the word from bursting out of her mouth. She stayed on her knees, panting, as her vision slowly returned and the crackling hiss stopped along with the chant. She shook her head, feeling dizzy and a bit disoriented, and climbed to her feet, putting her back to the wall to keep her eyes on the sarcophagus. _Fus_…the word whispered in her mind, its meaning beyond her comprehension. Aela hadn't said anything about this at all. She hadn't even mentioned anything like it. It was some kind of magic though, and it was frightening, being pulled against her will like that. She would make sure to give the walls a wide berth from now on.

Once she was recovered, within a few minutes, Bryn decided to start searching for the stone, hoping against all hope that it wasn't in the coffin. That hope didn't hold out long as she edged around the wall and heard the telltale crack of a crypt opening. She spun around and put up her shield, a shiver of horror going through her as the skeletal visage swung around and glowing undead eyes riveted to her. Eyes that had much more presence than any of the previous ones had.

Bryn peeped with fear as the creature leaned back and seemed to take a breath, and before she could move it shouted "_ZUN!_" Her mace flew out of her hand, leaving her stunned and disarmed, and she backed away and began frantically looking for it. Thankfully the draugr wasn't particularly fast, and she was able to roll out of the way of several other Shouts, catching only the edge, which still left her shaken, and use her bow to take several shots at the creature. After running around like a fool for what seemed like an eternity, Bryn stumbled over the mace and tumbled to the ground on her face, knocking the breath out of her. She heard the patter of draugr feet behind her and she grabbed the mace and rolled to her feet, narrowly missing an axe in the head.

The draugr drew breath again, and Bryn bashed it in the face with her shield, stopping it cold, but it immediately brought up its axe and brought it down on her shield, the impact sending a shudder through her arm. Bryn and the creature began to circle each other, exchanging blows, and it began to wear her down. Before she could get out of the way it shouted "_FUS!_" at her, making her stumble, and she brought up her shield just in time to block another blow, but another quickly followed, catching her in the side, sending a searing cold through her. She cried out in agony, breathless, and began backing towards the stairs. The draugr looked like it was falling apart but still came at her, its rictus grin never failing, eyes malevolently glowing. She turned and limped down the stone stairs, gasping for breath, hoping she could raise the stone door before it came through.

She cried out in desperation when she saw no mechanism to raise the thing; it had completely receded into the floor. She tucked the mace under her arm and focused her mind enough to heal herself partway and close the wound, though it still ached. She heard the draugr pacing at the top of the stairs but to her relief it didn't come down. She backed into the shadows as best she could, slowing her breathing with an effort to be silent, and waited, and within a minute she heard the footsteps recede. More presence than the others it may have had, but not much more smarts.

Bryn finished healing herself completely and tiptoed back up the stairs, seeing the creature slowly crossing the bridge, dragging a leg. She nocked an arrow to her bowstring and crept forward, sighting between the draugr's bony shoulder blades, then slowly drew back and let it fly. The creature stumbled, and she hit it again, seeing it fall to its knees. She readied a third arrow and its arms flew outward as it fell face down and went still.

She let out a shuddering breath and put the bow on her back as she ran forward, readying her mace and shield again. She gave the thing a wide berth, never taking her eyes off it, and she blew out a breath of relief and lowered her weapon when she saw that the glow of its eyes was extinguished. Bryn still approached it cautiously, prodding its foot with hers before she trusted that it was truly and permanently dead. It was. She put away her shield and mace and knelt down to go through the draugr's armor for any gold or treasure, and she clapped her hands in triumph when she found a flat engraved stone tucked against the creature's chest. It was five-sided; the back was engraved with more runes, and the front had a dragon's head exactly like the one on the word wall, along with a map of Skyrim, dotted with stars that clearly marked something. She stowed it away safely in her pack and took her time inspecting every nook and cranny of the cavern; she was already loaded with gold and loot, but a little more never hurt, and more she found. For good measure she took the draugr's weapon as well. It seemed sturdy for its age, a small axe, and a soft white gleam crawled over its surface, the weapon enchanted. That explained the terrible burning cold that had accompanied the wound. She wasn't skilled with an axe, but she was sure Adrianne would like to see it, and maybe offer her a bit of gold for it, or maybe some better armor in trade. What she had now was certainly not up to this kind of abuse.

It was easy to find the way out, and when she came out on the side of the mountain she grinned and took a deep breath of fresh air. The river was below, no doubt the one that ran by Riverwood, and it was evening; she had been inside the barrow nearly all day, and now that she thought about it she was starving. She looked for a way down and saw the ivory pallor of bones lying everywhere…mammoths and deer. She scanned the area and didn't see any predators, though she did catch sight of a metallic gleam to her left. She cautiously made her way down the mountainside toward the gleam and was delighted to find a vein of corundum ore. She had picked up a pickaxe from one of the bandits, thinking it might come in handy at some point, and that point was now. It didn't take finesse to work a few lumps of reddish-green ore from the vein. Adrianne had a smelter that would make short work of it, and give Bryn more coin in her pocket. It was taxing, but not difficult, though she was already exhausted. It had been one hell of a day, but in the end a good one.

It was well past full dark when Bryn arrived back at Jorrvaskr. It was also past the time when the Jarl held court, and she wasn't about to bother him or Farengar this late in the evening, so she went home. _Home_, she thought happily. Maybe it really was, at least for now. At least it wasn't any more uncomfortable than the one she had left.

When she went inside she was glad to not see Vilkas glowering anywhere, but equally disappointed to not see Farkas either. Aela and Skjor were talking quietly to each other in a corner. Bryn couldn't help wondering if they were lovers, from the intimacy of the discussion and how often they were in each other's company. Farkas had told her there were no rules against it, though it was discouraged as it could cause dissent or jealousy among shield-siblings. She could see that happening.

The hall was empty at this late hour other than Aela and Skjor, and as Bryn headed to the table to eat the older man noticed her. "Ah, the crypt delver returns," he said with amusement as the two of them walked over. "Good to see you made it out in one piece."

"Barely," she said through a mouthful of roast beef. She was completely famished. She had nibbled here and there in the barrow but had found the place unappetizing to say the least, full of the smell of death and corruption, and she had been in too much of a hurry to get home to stop for food after that. She had barely had time to run through Whiterun's gates and sell off her spare gear and trinkets before the shops had closed. Adrianne had found the frost axe interesting but had said it was showing its age, and hadn't given her much for it, but Bryn had picked up so much that between the loot she had unloaded and the gold she had picked up in the barrow she had made a whopping five hundred gold. She had so much money now that she didn't know what to do with it. She still needed a decent set of armor, but that could wait until morning.

The two senior Companions settled on either side of her and she swallowed and said to Aela, "I saw, heard, that Shout you told me about, the _thu'um_! You wouldn't believe it, Aela. It Shouted the weapon right out of my hand. I thought I was doomed. I ran around like a beheaded chicken trying to find the thing while avoiding the draugr. I probably looked ridiculous."

Aela laughed, "I hope you didn't leave anyone or anything alive to tell about it."

"Not a thing," Bryn said in an eager tone. She heard the sound of the downstairs door opening and closing and several sets of feet on the stairs. "Oh, it was glorious, Aela, glorious! I thought it would be terrifying, and it was, at first, but I followed your advice and it saved my hide."

"Good, good," she said proudly, squeezing the girl's knee. She looked past her to Skjor and saw her friend staring at the girl thoughtfully, though he was smiling. He noticed her gaze and smirked at her, his thoughts no doubt running along the same lines as hers, as they usually did. Well, they had time enough for that, and the way the girl was going it wouldn't be long. She heard a commotion by the stairs and saw the others had roused themselves from their rooms. She waved them over. "Come, our little adventurer here was telling us about her busy day." The other Companions gathered around, though as always lately Kodlak hadn't made it up. Aela never ceased worrying about the old man's deteriorating health. It seemed the healers should have been able to do something for him, at least to make him more comfortable if nothing else.

"Tilma said you were back," Farkas said in a happy tone as he came up behind her, removing her helmet to ruffle her fair hair. "Did you see a lot of draugr? I haven't seen too many. Don't like caves and dungeons. Too dark and creepy." And usually full of spiders.

"The place was crawling with them," Bryn stated. "Well, not literally crawling. Most of them were sleeping in their burial niches. But I picked most of them off before they could even get to their feet."

"Good practice," Aela said with approval. "I'll bet your aim feels a lot sharper after today, doesn't it."

"Oh yes, much. I feel…" She took a deep breath then let it out, shaking her head. "I feel sharper all around. Different, but better. I feel I learned a great deal from today." She kept the experience with the rune wall to herself for now. That had been too weird and mystical to explain without sounding brain-damaged. _Fus_ still rolled around in her mind, almost as if it were trying to take root and wasn't able to. She knew what it meant though; that draugr at the end had used it enough on her. She continued, "I found what Farengar sent me for. I'll take it up to him in the morning, but I'm too tired now."

Athis said, "Not too tired to spin your tale, I hope."

Ria eagerly added, "Yeah, start from the very beginning. Don't leave out a thing!" She rubbed her hands together. "Wow, a real crypt. Why don't we ever get jobs like that?"

"Because we are the Companions, not treasure hunters," Vilkas said with disapproval. "We are not adventurers. There is no honor in creeping through burial chambers robbing the dead."

Bryn's mouth fell open as Torvar muttered in dread, "Oh boy."

"I was on a mission for the Jarl and his wizard," Bryn stated, anger keeping her voice steady. He had no right to judge her after what she had been through today. His pale eyes shone, his face clean of warpaint and freshly shaved, and he wore regular clothing. His hair was wet and slicked back as if he had just bathed, and it highlighted his high cheekbones. He was altogether too handsome for his own good, or hers, but it didn't stop her from being furious with him. In fact it made it a hell of a lot easier. It seemed wrong that such a mean person should be blessed with that kind of masculine beauty. It made her want to punch him and mess up that pretty face.

"It was not Companion business," Vilkas countered.

"It was everyone's business. Whiterun's business, Skyrim's business."

"You cannot be running jobs for two people at a time, girl. It goes against everything we believe in."

"It wasn't a job! How can you call it that? And I wasn't doing a job for anyone else!"

He sneered and said, "I hope you didn't do it for free. If you have the time for such things then you should be doing jobs for the Companions, for _our_ honor and glory, and pay, not the Jarl's!"

"Tell me, will you sit here and let Jorrvaskr and the city of Whiterun burn down around your ears when the dragon comes, because there is no coin in it for the Companions?" She dug through her pack and took out several leather sacks and threw them on the table. "_There_, there is your cut, if you are nothing but a mercenary. Half of everything I fought and bled for today. Will that satisfy you?" Vilkas bared his teeth at her, growling furiously. "Kodlak said my time was my own, that I could come and go as I wish!"

"That. Is. So," Vilkas stated in a biting tone, nearly trembling with the effort to contain his anger. He knew he was overreacting. He knew it and yet it was nearly impossible to stop.

Seeing he was trying, Bryn lowered her eyes from his. She felt Farkas' hands come down on her shoulders, big and warm and comforting, and it was all she could do not to grab for his hands and hold them like a child. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

Aela scoffed, "What are you sorry for? Defending yourself? Forget him. Finish your tale. I would hear how many foes you took down today. I hope you kept track."

"Nine bandits, I think. A giant spider." Farkas made a sound of disgust. She shivered. "It was big. Really enormous. And…oh, I don't know, I lost track of the draugr. I would say at least twenty. They really weren't that hard to fight, one at a time, except that one at the end. By the Divines, that was hard. I thought I was dead for sure. And the bandits outside the barrow, they nearly took me down at first too. I'm not very good yet at fighting hand to hand."

"Good enough for today, obviously," Torvar stated. "In fact this calls for a drink in celebration." There was soft laughter at that and Bryn grimaced and put up her hands.

Athis offered, "I could teach you a thing or two, one-on-one tutoring…for a price." He eyed the coin on the table. "That amount there would do nicely." Seeing he was serious, Bryn nodded and motioned for him to take it, and he did so with a gleam in his red eyes. "Azura's wisdom to you, friend. Meet me in the yard tomorrow morning, bright and early. I'll put you through your paces, see where your technique needs work."

"Yes, thank you, sera."

His eyes widened slightly then he smiled and inclined his head to her. "So, continue with your tale." _Sera_…he had never heard that word out of the mouth of anyone in Skyrim but his own kind. He hadn't heard the word in years, in fact. The only two of his kind for many miles were the two females in town, and one was a sociopath and the other the Jarl's housecarl. That Irileth though…magnificent woman. All business, that one, and deadly as a spider. Beautiful as one, too. It was a shame she was so standoffish, even for one of their kind. You couldn't get anywhere near her without her hand straying to her weapon. Damn shame.

Vilkas turned on his heel and strode out of the room, and Bryn swallowed and let her hand stray up to Farkas' for comfort, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze that warmed her heart, as did Aela's defense of her. She was surrounded by friendly faces, shield-siblings, people who would protect her, even from one of their own. She knew then that she would do anything to be able to stay here, even if it meant defying Vilkas, a member of the Circle. He was outnumbered and knew it. She still had no idea what his problem with her was, and maybe…maybe he didn't even know.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I really want to thank those who have taken the time to read, review, and follow this story. I should have noted up front that I started writing this last summer, when there were fewer Skyrim stories out there (and needless to say fewer Companion stories). This story is not heavy on fight scenes, focusing mostly on the Dragonborn's personal growth and relationships, and that of a few NPCs. Many quests will be reflected on after they have happened, as I feel we all have played through those and damned if I'm going to type all that out unless it really adds somehow to the story. I actually wrote this for my own enjoyment alone and never intended to post it, however at this point...why the heck not? :) As a disclaimer: there are occasional adult moments in this story, however I don't feel they are terribly graphic. Thank you all again.**

Bryn crouched behind the rock outcropping next to Irileth, her heart hammering with terror. How on Nirn did she get caught up in things like this? This was Helgen all over again…the smoke, the burning bodies. The Dunmer woman next to her seemed completely immune to fear, yelling out orders without a hint of panic in her voice. The men were all looking to Bryn for reassurance, nearly as much as they were to Irileth, and she kept her expression as calm as possible. It was barely possible. Why the hell would they think she knew anything about dragons just because of Helgen? She knew nothing about dragons!

"Spread out and look for survivors," Irileth ordered. "We need to know what we're dealing with here."

She ran for the watchtower and the scant shelter it provided, her guts turning to water. She felt like screaming at the Dunmer There is no dealing with it! We're all going to die! Still, the guards were out here, even the one who had whispered, "We're so dead!" before they'd even left the city gates. If they could be brave, so could she, but then she had seen a dragon and what they could do, as if the situation here weren't clear enough.

A guard came limping out of the tower, holding a broken arm, yelling to her, "No, get back! It's still here somewhere!" He crouched down and scanned the sky. "Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!"

Irileth barked, "Guardsman, what happened? Where is this dragon, quickly now!"

A distant roar sounded. "Kynareth save us all, here it comes again!"

Bryn pulled out her bow and Irileth nodded curtly to her before yelling at the others, "Here he comes! Find cover, and make every arrow count!"

Hands shaking, Bryn leapt down from the ramp and put her back against the base, not about to get trapped in the tower. A guardsman jumped down next to her, and she saw he was armed with a sword. "You need a bow!" she said breathlessly. "Where is your bow?"

"I don't have one," he replied, his face glistening with nervous sweat. "Never could get the hang of it."

"Divines save us," she groaned. She gasped as a dark form blotted out the sky above them and a reverberating roar shook her to her bones. She forced herself to study the dragon as it flew over. It was smaller than the one in Helgen, and greenish-gray, not black, its hide less spiky. It was still huge, still monstrous. It made another pass and blew a cone of frost over a guardsman on a nearby height, and he shuddered and fell to his knees. Nord or not, the cold was too intense to bear. He tried stiffly to raise his bow and the dragon began to hover near him, and Bryn swore she could hear a faint echo of sinister laughter. She sighted her bow and put an arrow into the beast's snout, making it roar in pain and veer away. The frozen guardsman was already warming, jumping down to safer ground.

Irileth raised her sword, her left hand crackling with lightning, and cried, "Did you see that? It can be wounded, and if it can be wounded, it can be killed!" Heartened, the guardsmen poured out into the open, and with every pass the dragon made a few more arrows hit their mark. Irileth hit the creature with lightning, her aim deft, and within ten minutes the dragon was on the ground, crawling like a bat on its wings, reddish-black blood glistening on its hide.

Bryn ran towards the grounded dragon from behind, staying out of reach of its tail, peppering it with arrows. She stumbled backwards as it swung around to face her, grinning with what seemed like a thousand teeth.

"You are brave, _balaan hokoron_. Your defeat brings me honor."

"Wh-what!" she cried, and had no time for more than that as the creature snapped at her. She danced out of the way, and as it opened its mouth to roar she sent an arrow down its throat. It rose on its haunches, thrashing, and Bryn put another arrow into its belly, along with the surviving guards. The dragon fell onto the ground again and began crawling towards her, hatred burning in its gaze, a tangible thing she could feel crawling along her skin. She held her ground and sighted one of her few remaining arrows between the dragon's bronze eyes, which suddenly widened as if seeing her for the first time.

"_Dovahkiin?!_ _Nid!_"

Bryn let the arrow fly, shifting her aim slightly to put the arrow through its left eye. It rose with a shriek, thrashing anew, then it fell to the earth, making the ground quake.

"Let's see if that overgrown lizard is really dead," Irileth ordered as she ran towards the carcass. "Damn good shooting, boys!"

Bryn stared at the dragon, numb, disbelieving. They had done it. They had really done it. They had killed a dragon. _She_ had killed a dragon. She heard the jangle of armor as the guards and Irileth ran up behind her as she tentatively reached out a hand to touch the dragon's snout. It was smooth, hard, like a turtle's shell, or a beak, glistening with blood as red as her own. She pulled her hand away, staring at it, then she slowly moved back as she saw the corpse start to glow from within. It burst into flame, but with no heat, and she moved tentatively forward again, bewildered. Before she could touch it however a sudden stream of light flowed out from the dragon's body, wrapping around her.

Stiffening with a cry, Bryn's ears filled with a rush of sound, unable to hear anything but a deafening waterfall rush and whispers on the edge of her understanding, though she did understand one word: _Mirmulnir_. The dragon's soul filled her until she felt like her head and heart would burst, then it faded away into silence, leaving only the crackling sound of the fort's burning wood.

"Did you see that!" a guard whispered.

"Dragonborn!" another cried. "Like the tales of old!"

Still reeling, Bryn felt the guards surround her. The dragon's corpse was only a skeleton now, with a few gray scales clinging to the bones, the color of the hide peeled away. She also saw with a swell of nausea the remains of a Whiterun guard's gear. She wondered if it was Hroki or Tor.

"I can't believe it," the guard closest to her said in a reverent tone. "You…you're Dragonborn! You must be!"

"What?" she whispered, shaking her head to clear it of the fog. "What do you mean, Dragonborn?" The Septims had been Dragonborn, but she wasn't a Septim, and as far as she knew Dragonborn was only a title. She wasn't even an Imperial.

"In the very oldest tales, back from the time when there were still dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power." The girl stared at him blankly. "That's what you did, isn't it? Absorbed the dragon's power?"

"I…I don't know what I did," she stammered, close to tears. Whatever it was that had happened, it hadn't been anything she intended. Then the book she had found in Helgen suddenly came back to her. She had flipped through it briefly, finding it interesting if only because of the dragon she had seen in Helgen. Now she would have to re-read it, if what the guard said was true. But it couldn't be true! She wasn't even a full-blooded Nord! She was nobody!

Another guard said, "There's only one way to tell if you're really Dragonborn: Shout."

Bryn rubbed her face, hearing the guards talking excitedly amongst themselves, encouraging her to shout. She could feel _Fus_ inside her, firmly settled into place, the dragon soul she absorbed seeming to feed it and give it the means to become a permanent part of her. She distantly heard Irileth trying to regain control of the situation and deflect attention from Bryn, which she appreciated. She hadn't killed that dragon alone, not by a long shot.

The first guard insisted, "Go ahead, Shout. That should prove it."

Just wanting the whole thing over with, and doubting the reality of it all, Bryn turned back to the dragon's skeleton and stared at it for a moment. She could feel the guards staring at her, waiting, then she took a deep breath and cried, "_FUS!_" A shockwave of power surged out of her, shaking the skeleton apart and sending the skull tumbling away from its body. Her mouth stayed open as she gaped in shock. She couldn't have done that. It just wasn't possible. Her aunt had always said she was too loud, but she had never done anything like that before!

"Now that was a Shout!" a guard cried in amazement.

"The _thu'um_, the voice of dragons!" "Dragonborn!" "Hail, Dragonborn!"

"No," Bryn whispered to herself, so softly none of the others could hear. "Please no."

"Do it again!" "Shout, Dragonborn!"

"Enough of this," Irileth reprimanded. The men fell silent, staring reverently at Bryn. She went to Bryn and said, "That was the hairiest fight I've ever been in, and I've been in more than a few." The girl nodded, her chin trembling. Irileth wasn't one for weakness and had no sympathy for it, but even she felt bad for the child, who seemed heartbroken to be the focus of all this attention, and over something so bizarre. It was true that she had been all across Tamriel and had seen things just as outlandish as this, but this was close to home, in her Jarl's backyard.

"What should I do?" Bryn asked her. "Is it true?" It couldn't be possible. She was no one special. She was no one at all. Just a mongrel. A mistake. An accident.

The Dunmer snorted. "I don't know about this Dragonborn business, but I'm sure glad you're with us."

Bryn nodded and gave her a fleeting smile. "Yes. That I am." The other woman certainly had a way of making everything seem manageable. Normal.

"Good. You'd better get back to Whiterun right away. Jarl Balgruuf will want to know what happened here."

"Yes, ma'am."

Bryn took off for the city at a run, relieved to have direction. It was late afternoon and she wanted to get back before it started getting dark, but then anything she faced after this would seem tame in comparison. She had just reached the crossroads near the stables when the crack of thunder sounded all around her, shaking the earth and making her nearly trip over her own feet. She hoped to the gods it wasn't another dragon. The horses in the stables were frantic, whinnying and kicking at their stalls.

"_DOV-AH-KIIN!_"

"What now?!" Bryn cried at the sky as the thunder struck again then receded in a distant rumble. "Leave me alone!" As usual, the Divines probably wouldn't listen. At least it wasn't another dragon, whatever it was. She remembered Mirmulnir's voice, grating and inhuman, resonating with thunder as it spoke. This latest voice had certainly been that of men. She recognized the word though, one the dragon had said before dying: _Dovahkiin_. She wondered what it meant. She hoped to the Nine that it had nothing to do with her, while knowing with sick dread that it did.

She quickly made her way up to the gates, and a guard looked her over and said in amazement, "You really did it! You killed a dragon!"

"No. _We_ killed it. All of us," she corrected him. The last thing she needed was for everyone to start treating her differently. She wasn't even fully settled in here yet and didn't need any more hardship than she'd already suffered.

"Oh, aye, that's what I meant. But did you hear that Shout just now? It was the Greybeards, I bet you! Summoning a Dragonborn, just like Tiber Septim of old!"

Bryn nodded and pushed through the gates quickly. She didn't want to talk anymore about it. Whatever it was, it no doubt meant trouble for her. She had been a magnet for it since the second she'd gone over the Pale Pass.

* * *

Bryn stared disconsolately at the campfire, ignoring the other woman's worried gaze.

"My thane, please," Lydia pleaded. "Eat something. I made venison stew. We shouldn't let it go to waste." Bryn sighed and lifted her eyes to Lydia's, her expression bleak. Lydia had followed her lady Brynhilde for the last nine days, in awe of the taller woman. She had trained all her life to be a housecarl, like her father before her, expecting to spend her career assigned to some spoiled, effete thane who expected her to be nothing more than a glorified servant. She had never dreamed she would end up roaming Skyrim in the service of one of the Companions. The Dragonborn, of all things. An honest-to-gods hero!

"There it is again," Bryn said sadly. "Stop looking at me that way, I'm begging you."

Lydia was taken aback. "Like what, my thane?"

"And will you stop calling me that!"

"But…that's what you are. You've been recognized by the Jarl as a person of importance in his hold. A hero."

"I am _not_ a hero." She'd be damned if people expected her to act like one, either.

The housecarl stared at Bryn as if she were out of her mind. Maybe she was. Lydia knew the road had been hard on her thane; she hadn't been all that talkative from the start, her eyes always refusing to meet Lydia's, eyes always on some invisible _something_ in the distance except when she was fighting (and oh, such fighting!), but she had spoken barely a word in two days, since failing to retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller for the Greybeards. Lydia had stayed in the background during Bryn's initial training with the old men, watching avidly, but Bryn had just gone through the motions, as if the entire experience were painful to her. As if what she was embarrassed her.

Each day away from Whiterun, each obstacle they faced and conquered…instead of inspiring Bryn it had seemed to break something inside her just a little bit more. While Lydia was tired too, she had found the entire journey exhilarating, the stuff of Bards' songs, indeed they had heard a song about the Dragonborn in every inn they had visited, something that had made Bryn nearly walk out each time while Lydia longed to scream at her to stand proud and tell everyone who she was. The fools hadn't even realized the Dragonborn was right there in front of them, a living legend! Lydia had even fought a dragon with her, in Ivarstead. It had been magnificent! Lydia had nearly fallen to her knees in reverence as she'd watched the dragon's soul merge with Bryn, and had nearly done so again in Ustengrav when she'd watched the word wall respond to her mistress' presence. How could Lydia be so lucky in this life as to have as her thane one who was touched by the gods?

"And there it is again." That look. The expectations she couldn't possibly live up to.

Bryn's eyes began to shine in a way that alarmed Lydia deeply, and when the other woman seemed to wilt and rolled herself into her bedroll and turned away she knew they had reached a critical juncture. Lydia hadn't realized things were this bad. Maybe she had taken a wrong tack this entire time. "This won't do," Lydia stated firmly. "No, this will not do at all." Bryn ignored her. Lydia moved away from the fire to stand over Bryn and said with clenched fists, "I'm trying to take care of you, and you aren't letting me! What am I supposed to tell Jarl Balgruuf? How do I explain how I've failed you?"

"Tell him that the Dragonborn was a fraud and she died in a bandit cave somewhere." Lydia made a sputtering sound of disbelief. "Or tell him the truth: that I wanted a big, blond Nord husband and rosy-cheeked babies in a little village somewhere, and I ran away. That...that was all I ever w-wanted."

The bedroll began to shake and Lydia was dismayed to hear strangled sobs, and she stared at the shuddering form under the furs and felt her own eyes start to grow wet. It was all so clear now, and she felt like an idiot for not seeing it. Bryn hadn't wanted any of this. These things that Lydia had dreamed about her whole life, had yearned for…the fame, the glory, the treasure… All Bryn had wanted was a home and a family, something warm and quiet, something Lydia herself had little interest in. Lydia sank to her knees and carefully put her hand on the other woman's shoulder, murmuring, "I'm sorry, my thane. I had no idea." And to be honest, she knew not a damn thing about her mistress. She hadn't even asked, figuring that if Bryn wanted to talk about herself she would, and Bryn had said nothing. She had been thoughtful about listening to Lydia's chatter, asking questions, seeming politely interested, but always distant. Now it seemed that in order to fulfill her duty she'd have to force the issue. Maybe that was what her lady needed.

"I'm pathetic," Bryn wept. "Weak and useless. I never should have been born. I'm not even a full-blooded Nord!"

"Neither am I," Lydia stated with a shrug. "My father was an Imperial housecarl for a thane in Falkreath, and died in his service. I thought I had told you that, but—"

"I'm half-Elven, dammit!" Bryn cried, throwing back the furs. "Half Altmer! Look at me, can't you see it?"

Lydia stared into her golden eyes, though the hazel-gold was only the iris, not the entire eye as in Elves, and they were slightly tilted up at the corners. She was quite tall too, taller than Lydia by at least four inches, and slender, or she had been at the start of their journey; now she was thin as a rail, though stronger than before. Her hair was a paler blond than was usual on Nords, too.

"See?" Bryn sniffed. "You see it, don't you! Why do you think they all stare at me, everywhere we go?"

"Because you're pretty, my thane." That shocked the other woman out of her weeping. She sat back on her heels and continued, "Yes, I'll admit I see some small signs of Elf blood in you, but only because you told me about it. Just as you can no doubt see the Nibenese blood in me-"

"But you're fully human. Don't you see, that's the entire problem! I'm not just a half-blood Nord, I'm a half-blood human. A mongrel."

"No, you're not, and in any case I don't see being a half-blood as a problem. Has it been a problem here? Has anyone who knows given you grief over it? Does anyone even know?"

"Well, no, but…hardly anyone knows. The Companions know, but-"

"Then what's your fear, if they knew and let you in?" If they had a Dunmer in their ranks then Bryn's blood couldn't possibly be an issue, and if she was good enough for them she was good enough for anyone. Except the Stormcloaks, that was.

"They let me in before they knew."

"And they could have just as easily thrown you back out. They have thrown people out, you know. Even members of the Circle have been thrown out, the last one only ten years ago."

Bryn hesitated then stammered, "No, no I didn't. I didn't know. There's…so much I still don't know. I was only with them a couple days before…all this. The dragon. The Greybeards. They probably think I ran off or got killed or something." She wondered how long they had worried before writing her off. If Vilkas had even worried at all or been relieved that she had disappeared. She hadn't had time to tell them she was leaving. She hadn't even thought to, too rattled and confused by the fight with Mirmulnir and the Dragonborn business. Though she supposed it would be easy enough for one of the Companions to just ask a guard, or one of the Jarl's people, if they really wanted to know. But what if they had, and they decided she was no longer what they were looking for in a member? Why the hell would they want the damned Dragonborn among their ranks? She could never be just a Companion anymore. She had barely been one at all.

Lydia saw the tears start to well up again, and she shook her head and firmly said, "No, my lady. No more of that. You sit up, turn yourself around, and eat some stew. You're going to eat stew until it's coming out your ears. Then we're packing up in the morning and going home." Lydia wasn't even sure where the hell they were right now. Somewhere in the mountains smack dab in the middle of Skyrim, she knew that much. They'd start walking south and look for landmarks from there.

"I have no home."

"Bullshit. Besides, I sat up taking stock of our kit last night, and we have more than enough gold and baubles and spare gear to sell off to buy Breezehome. We're heading back to Whiterun in the morning, and I'm marching you up to Avenicci and we're going to buy that house, and have it furnished, and then no matter what happens you will have a home. _We_ will have a home." Bryn stared at her with wet eyes, but the tears didn't fall, and finally the other woman nodded. Bryn started to turn toward the fire, but Lydia grabbed her arm and stopped her. Bryn waited, and Lydia grabbed her hand, feeling the bones within like a bird's. "I am your sword and your shield, my thane," she vowed intently. "And whatever else you need me to be." Bryn shivered, some of the tension finally starting to leave her, letting Lydia know she had said the right thing, and she had meant it. "I'm not a big, blond Nord husband, but I will take care of you until you find one, and even after that. I will guard your home and your family and all that you own with my life." After what they had been through the last week she would follow Bryn to Sovngarde and back. Bryn smiled hesitantly at her, the first smile Lydia had seen out of her since the moment they had met, and it was so fearful and childlike that it broke Lydia's heart. It was as if Bryn were constantly waiting for the entire world to wound her. She didn't know how someone with such fearsome potential could be so incredibly fragile.

"All right," the other woman whispered. "If you say so."

"Yes my thane, I do." She gave her hand another squeeze then grabbed her shoulders and turned her around. "Now, eat. Then sleep. Then we go. And on the way home you're going to tell me everything."

"Yes. I will." And she did.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I tried to find some consistency online between the Dunmer honorifics _sera_ and _muthsera_. Maybe I just didn't look hard enough, but I couldn't find any, so for the purposes of this story _sera_ will be the male honorific and _muthsera_ female.**

"Do you get to the Cloud District very often? Oh, what am I saying, of course you don't."

Lydia stared at the man and stated in aggravation, "Actually, my thane was just there, reporting to the Jarl. Seeing as she's his _thane_ and all. Did I mention she is a thane, which to my knowledge you are _not_?"

Nazeem blinked then said in an offended voice, "Thane! Oh, well, my mistake. Carry on."

Lydia rolled her eyes and shook her head as she leaned back against the bench. She'd never liked the man, though his wife Ahlam was very kind, a healer in the temple of Kynareth, but from what Lydia had heard she couldn't stand her own husband much more than anyone else could. She saw her thane staring at Jorrvaskr then Bryn sighed and turned her attention back to the statue of Talos looming over them. She had brought Bryn here a few minutes ago to lay hands on the Shrine and pray to Talos for guidance; she had hoped it would help, for one Dragonborn to look to another for direction, and just maybe to heal any ills she might have picked up in their travels. Indeed Bryn already looked much better, a hint of pink in her cheeks, and Lydia fretted that she might have gotten bonebreak fever from one of the many bears they'd fought. She'd have to start carrying a few cure disease potions in their kit. Things were hard enough for her lady to deal with without adding sickness to it.

Bryn sighed heavily again and looked up at Jorrvaskr as the priest Heimskr started in on his endless sermon again. She shouldn't put things off too much longer. Maybe after she had rested up a bit and taken care of a few loose ends she could run a few simple jobs for the Companions. It might be nice to take care of something small and easy instead of some grand quest. She did need to go fetch that horn, though. It aggravated her to no end that someone had snuck in and snatched the horn from her, then had the audacity to leave her a note to come and get it. They'd said it was urgent, but they could damn well wait.

Lydia stood as Bryn rose from the bench, and she asked, "What now, my thane? Do you want to go see the house? It's empty, but we could look at it."

"No, not yet. I want to see it cleaned up and furnished first. I want to walk into it as a real home."

"Yes, my thane. I have the spare key. Would you like me to see to everything?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you."

"Are you going to go see the Companions now?"

"No."

"Don't you think you should?" Lydia said in a lowered voice. Bryn didn't answer but after a few seconds she sighed and nodded. She moved closer to Bryn and went on intently, "You have nothing to answer for. You answer only to the Jarl and the Divines themselves, and even then, only if you feel like it." She was relieved to see Bryn nod. Lydia had spent the last three days on their way home working on the other woman and they had made what Lydia felt was great progress. She had forced every single tidbit of information out of Bryn that she could, had wiped every tear she had shed, and while Bryn was still quiet, it was a thoughtful quiet. Still sad, still quiet, but it was as if a poison had been purged from her. In turn Lydia had drilled into her what it meant to be a Nord, that Bryn was for all intents and purposes a Nord, that the Divines themselves had put their mark on her but that it was up to her what to do about it. She didn't have to blindly follow anyone's orders or what she thought was the gods' will, like some hapless leaf caught in a stream. Whatever she chose to do, she could do it in her own time, or not at all. That had really seemed to finally get through to her.

"I just…I worry."

"About Vilkas?" Lydia snorted. "That one will only make your life difficult. He might not intend it, but it's what he does." That was the biggest mistake Lydia had made on the road back home: bringing up Vilkas, in the worst possible way. She had a tendency to run off at the mouth, and she had run off more than usual in trying to put Bryn at ease and figure out what made her tick. They had been talking about the Companions and Lydia had related her own experiences in town with them, including the times she had taken either of the brothers to bed, Vilkas only once. Farkas was an easy, fun bedmate who you could take a tumble with, slap each other on the back afterwards and go your separate ways. Vilkas though…it had been a chance encounter after a feast the Jarl had thrown at Mid-Winter, in one of the balconies overlooking the hall of all places, Vilkas claiming with a smirk that he had gotten lost and perhaps he could show her where he was supposed to go? She wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole after that. Not that it hadn't been good. Damn good, gods it had been good, but too intense, too intimate. Those eyes had bored into her in a predatory way that still sent shudders down her spine. She frankly found him a bit creepy after that.

Bryn had listened to all of it as stiff as a board, staring at the fire with huge eyes, and Lydia hadn't noticed even though she was sitting right next to her. Bryn craved the touchy-feely stuff and Lydia didn't mind sitting by her when they talked, close enough that their shoulders or knees touched every so often. There wasn't anything sexual in it; not that Lydia would have minded, really, but she preferred men. All kinds of men. When she'd finally trailed off and noticed Bryn sitting there rigidly, breathing funny, her cheeks red, she had asked what was wrong, and after a great deal of prodding and pestering Bryn had come out with it, thoroughly mortified. The other woman had a childish crush on the dark, brooding man, and to top it all off she had never heard anyone talk about sex like that before. Or really at all. Twenty-seven years old and she was as ignorant and sheltered as a little girl, but then that was what her aunt and grandmother had treated her as her entire life. That had been a bigger eye opener than anything else. Nords were easy about that sort of thing: faithful once joined in marriage, but anything went before that. Lydia had teased Bryn about being The Virgin Thane, about being purer than the snows at the peak of the Throat of the World, on and on as Bryn got madder and madder, until they'd both finally burst into peals of laughter, giggling until they'd collapsed against each other. A bit more of the poison purged.

Heimskr's voice rose as he cried out, "But what of tomorrow? What then? Do the Elves take your homes? Your businesses? Your children? Your very _liiiiives_?"

"Divines bless us, he's mad," Bryn whispered with mixed admiration and concern. The man's histrionics were astonishing.

"A little bit, yes," Lydia said tiredly. "Sometimes I still get a kick out of him, but not today." She squeezed Bryn's shoulder then said, "I'll go get your home ready for you, my thane. I see Avenicci's men coming now."

"Thank you, Lydia. I appreciate it."

"It is my duty and my pleasure, my lady."

She watched her housecarl walk away, Lydia's back straight and proud even under the weight of all their gear. It was nice that she had made Lydia happy. Someone should be. Bryn wasn't miserable at this point, but she wasn't happy. She already missed Lydia. You couldn't spend nearly two weeks with someone every waking moment, fighting and nearly dying together, spilling your guts to each other every night around the campfire, without forging a strong bond. She trusted Lydia implicitly, in everything. It was nice to have at least one person in the world she could count on. Time to see if she could count on any others.

She hauled herself up the stairs to Jorrvaskr, hearing Eorlund hammering away up at the Skyforge. The weather was beautiful today and she decided to bypass the dark hall and go around to the back; surely someone would be outside, training or having lunch, since it was about that time. Indeed as she came around the building she heard the clank of steel on steel and lively conversation.

"I prefer the smaller blades myself," Athis said to Farkas. The two men were sitting on the back porch, watching Vilkas spar with Ria, the dark-haired man trying to teach her the art of the greatsword.

"Eh, what's the point," Farkas replied dismissively. "The little blades don't hurt enough."

"Yes, but ten cuts from a little blade hurt just as much as one from a big blade."

"Really? I need just one swing to cut you in half."

"Well, when you put it that way."

Bryn couldn't help laughing at the conversation, and as Farkas turned to grin at her in welcome Vilkas glanced over in distraction. Ria screamed and swung at him, smacking him hard across his shoulder blades with her wooden practice sword.

"Damn it woman, watch what you're doing!" Vilkas barked at her.

Ria countered, "You told me just two minutes ago not to let myself get distracted. And then you hit me. Fair is fair."

"Whatever. I'm done."

Ria rolled her eyes and put up her blade then trotted over to Bryn, who was staring at Vilkas then looked away. She had circles under her eyes and looked a bit pale, and when Ria grabbed her arm in greeting the Imperial woman said in dismay, "Great Divines, you're nothing but skin and bone, Bryn! Where have you been?"

"Ustengrav, a few days ago. Morthal before that, then…High Hrothgar. Ivarstead. A dozen necromancer caves and bandit camps in between."

"Really?" she breathed in amazement. "Well you look ready to fall over. Come sit down and have something to eat then tell us all about it!"

"I just did. Eat. Lunch. With the Jarl. I'm okay though…better now."

"You call this better?" Farkas growled, coming over to take her shoulders and steer her to the porch. She felt painfully thin under the dress, which looked new and rather expensive but was hanging off her. It looked like her hair had been neatly trimmed as well. "If this is better, I don't want to see what worse was. What the hell have you been doing the last two weeks?"

"No one told you?"

"Yeah, Kodlak did. The Jarl's brother Hrongar came down the day after you left to talk to the old man, fill him in on where you were going and the dragon and all that, but we haven't heard anything since."

Ria fidgeted eagerly as Farkas sat Bryn down and said, "I can't believe it! You killed a dragon. You're really Dragonborn? Like Tiber Septim?"

"So it seems. Funny, isn't it," Bryn said tiredly, staring across the courtyard. Vilkas stared back for a few seconds then casually looked away, though he did deign to come over and join them.

"Funny? How so?" Farkas asked in a wary tone. She didn't answer, staring past them all at the dummies in the practice yard. There was something off about her entire manner that didn't sit well with him at all. Like she was one step away from jumping off a cliff or something.

Oblivious, Ria asked in excitement, "Did you fight any other dragons? Or just the one?"

"There was another, in Ivarstead," Bryn answered, focusing on the other woman with an effort. "I didn't take them down alone, either of them. Both times there were guards there, and the second time Lydia as well."

"Your housecarl," she breathed. "Wow, I can't believe you're a thane. What are you going to do now?"

"Take it easy," Farkas stated. "That's what she's going to do."

Bryn slowly nodded, saying, "Yes, I am, I mean…I will. I'm…exhausted. I sent Lydia home to take care of things, but I wanted to check in here first. See all of you."

"Home." She looked up at Vilkas' statement and he folded his arms. The spark she'd had in her eyes before was gone, and he fought not to feel guilty as he said, "And where would that be? I don't see her anywhere. Your _housecarl_."

"Breezehome. I just bought it."

"Ah, and there we have it. Too good to bunk with the other whelps now, are you? Thane of Whiterun has to have her own private house?"

"Vilkas," Farkas growled in warning. Bryn had flinched back from Vilkas' words as if he had slapped her. Vilkas had always been the dominant twin, the leader, but Farkas wasn't going to let him pick on anyone, especially someone so inoffensive. It was as if Vilkas went out of his way to find reasons to be offended by her.

Bryn said in a near whisper, "I have nightmares. I talk in my sleep. I don't want to bother the others."

Athis said diplomatically, "Your concern is touching, muthsera. You must of course do what you feel is best."

Bryn was still staring at Vilkas, who grumbled and looked away, arms still folded, his upper lip twitching as if fighting not to sneer. How she wished she wasn't so attracted to him. It just figured that the first man in her life she really wanted absolutely despised her, and she still didn't know why. She swallowed the lump in her throat and said, "What I feel is best is never the right thing, is it." She stood, nearly swaying on her feet with exhaustion. "I should go see Kodlak."

"He's resting," Vilkas stated shortly. "You should leave him alone."

Ria frowned at him and said, "How do you know he's resting? You've been out here with me for the last hour."

"Mind your own business."

"How is this any less my business than yours? Is she our Shield-Sister or not?"

"I don't know, you tell me," he countered, turning back to look at Bryn. Instead of defending herself she stood with her fingers twined together, looking off to the side at nothing, and the pang of regret it gave him only served to fuel his anger. He wasn't even sure at this point who he was angry with.

Athis grumbled, "This has grown tiresome," and headed for the doors.

Ria added, "Yeah, it has." She looked at Bryn and said, "If he keeps giving you crap, punch him. If you can take down dragons, you shouldn't have to deal with his bullshit."

"You had better give a little respect, newblood," Vilkas growled at her back as she followed the Dunmer.

"You've made it hard to lately. We're all getting tired of it. No one rules anyone else here."

Once she was gone, Farkas said to him, "Maybe I'll punch you instead."

"I'd like to see you try," Vilkas hissed. Bryn slowly turned away and made her way to the doors, and Vilkas snapped, "Where are you going?" She ignored him, though he saw her flinch at his words. She was gone, and he rubbed his hands over his face, feeling like he was coming apart at the seams. He began pacing, his nerves jangling and his blood boiling.

Farkas watched him for nearly a minute before he asked curtly, "What the hell is wrong with you?" Vilkas snarled and flexed his fists. "You need to get out and hunt."

"No. I promised I wouldn't."

"This isn't working for you. It isn't going to. It's only been, what six or seven weeks?"

"It shouldn't bother me," Vilkas said in a shaking voice.

"Why not?"

"It isn't bothering you."

"I just don't think about it."

"Yeah, well that's easy for you. Not thinking." Farkas stared at him, his tongue in his cheek. "I…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." It wasn't his brother's fault that he sometimes lost his train of thought, or stared blankly into space when he wasn't occupied with anything. It wasn't his fault at all, and Vilkas knew why that was, and it would never stop grieving him. They should have been the same. They had been, up to that certain point in their lives, then everything had changed. Farkas didn't remember much of it, but Vilkas remembered it all.

Seeing Vilkas was truly horrified by what he had said, Farkas muttered, "You've always had a temper. Everyone knows that. But lately you've been cruel. Not just to Bryn, either. It isn't right."

The back door flew open and Ria breathlessly said, "You had better get inside—"

"_VILKAS!_"

Both brothers' eyes widened fearfully at the furious roar, one they hadn't heard since their teens. Ria whispered, "He's really mad. I've never seen him so mad."

Glad he wasn't the one it was directed at, Farkas asked, "What's wrong?"

"Bryn just left. I don't know what they talked about, but she ran out in tears and he was trying to call her back but he couldn't get his breath. Torvar tried to see if he was all right but he took one look at the Harbinger and turned tail." Ria didn't blame him. She was terrified.

Vilkas swallowed hard, feeling cold sweat break out on his skin under his armor, then he forced himself to go inside. No one would meet his eyes, and he was glad Skjor and Aela were gone again doing whatever it was they did or they would have given him hell. His brother didn't follow, and Vilkas wished he had. He had never faced Kodlak's temper alone, not once during the twins' wild youth; they had always gotten their hides tanned together.

He was mortified to see Kodlak prowling his sitting room, breathing heavily and holding his side, and when the old man's steely gaze fell on him he whispered, "Harbinger, I—"

"Shut the doors!"

Vilkas did so, keeping his back to them. "Please, Master, you must calm your—"

"No. No, it is _you_ who had better calm himself! I am furious with you, boy. What are you trying to accomplish, driving away a Shield-Sister! The…the damned Dragonborn, fool!"

Vilkas recoiled and said in a tight voice, "It has to be some kind of mistake. That…that _whelp_ can't be Dragonborn. It's impossible."

"You think a dozen men and Irileth seeing her absorb a dragon's soul is a mistake? You think their hearing her use the _thu'um_ was… Ah…" Kodlak stopped his circuit of the room to catch his breath, his side burning.

"I am sorry," he said haltingly. Of course it wasn't a mistake, but why in Oblivion would the Divines make some skinny, awkward half-breed waif the Dragonborn when there were so many, many other real Nords the gift could have been given to? Gods only knew what she would do with the power. Probably something stupid, something meaningless.

"Not…me."

"Yes, Harbinger," he whispered. No, it wasn't Kodlak he should be saying it to, though he was horrified to be the cause of Kodlak's current state. He stood silently, his eyes on the floor, keeping his mouth shut until the older man's breathing calmed enough to continue, falling into a chair.

"She is not a whelp," Kodlak growled. "Not a newblood. She is…beyond those things. None of us could have known at the time what she was, but we know now, and we will be _grateful_ for the time she chooses to spend as a Companion, do you hear me, boy?"

"Yes, Harbinger."

"Once in an era one with the dragon's blood comes among our people, and you treat it as if it is nothing, as if it is a thing she can simply set aside as an inconvenience to you. She has a greater destiny than running errands and chasing bandits, but I was going to invite her to join the Circle anyway in hopes of keeping our star hitched to hers, and you come along and _blunder_ into everything like a clumsy, jealous child."

Vilkas' mouth fell open then he stammered, "The Circle? But Harbinger, she…she cannot…she hasn't earned it! She hasn't even had a proper Trial!"

"Have you not been listening to me, boy?" Kodlak shouted. "What would you have her do, fetch family heirlooms and kidnapped citizens for the next ten years, just because _you_ had to?"

Hurt, he replied, "Yes, yes she should have to, or what do we stand for?"

Kodlak brought his armored fist down on the table then stood, bearing down on Vilkas who dropped his eyes, shivering. He stopped little more than a foot away from him and said with quiet intensity, "We are diminished here, Vilkas. The four junior Companions we have, while they are good enough and try hard, are not going to be remembered even a hundred years from now except in some dusty roster book. I am dying, rotting away on the inside, day by day, fretting endlessly over the future of this company while worrying at the same time over the state of our souls. And then into our lap falls this strange girl, as if dropped out of the sky by the gods, and it turns out that yes, indeed, she was." His expression hardened again as his voice rose. "And from the moment she comes here she is given nothing but grief and harassment by one of those who should be guiding her! After everything she has done in the last two weeks- Should I remind you of it?"

"No Harbinger, that is not nec—"

"She escaped Helgen. She killed a dragon. She absorbed its soul in front of a dozen guards then Shouted its carcass apart. She was called to High Hrothgar by the Greybeards, which I know you heard, so you can't ignore that. I can't even begin to guess what else she did while she was gone, because _you_ turned on her like a rabid wolf the moment she came back here and I didn't get to hear any of it!" Vilkas closed his eyes, grimacing. "She came back _here_, damn you. Everything she has done, everything she has the potential to do, and yet _this_ is where she chose to come back to, hoping we would welcome her back. Well I hope you are satisfied boy, because she came in here to tell me she had made a mistake in joining us, and it wasn't because she all of a sudden thinks she's too good for us, it's because she said that her presence here obviously distresses _you_ personally for some reason, and she won't stay in a family where she is detested, _again_. She said if a member of the Circle doesn't want her here then she won't impose herself on us. She said you must have good reason for hating her. Or at least I think that is what she said, since I could understand only half of what the poor lass was blubbering about." Vilkas cringed, his cheeks red, and Kodlak could see that he had finally hit home. He went on with less heat, "You will make this right, Vilkas. You alone, no leaning on your brother. She loves him, and I won't have you use him as leverage."

"Yes, Master," Vilkas whispered, nodding. "I will do so." Of course Bryn loved his brother. Everyone did, especially the ladies. He never lacked requests for repeat performances, no matter where he went. He supposed he should be happy that his brother could just bumble along through life with so few worries. Let a drunk girl cry on your shoulder for a couple hours and she was yours, simple as that. That hadn't stopped her from making eyes at Vilkas, though. Well, she couldn't have her sweetroll and eat it too.

"If she agrees to come back to us, and she had damn well better for your sake, you will teach her whatever she wants to know, whether it be our history or giving her training, it doesn't matter. If she asks you to be her Shield-Brother on a job, you will do so without hesitation. No more snide comments. No glaring. We must do everything we can to keep her with us, for as long as she is here. If you cannot stomach doing this for base decency's sake, consider that if we help and support her, every time she goes out into the world folk will say our name and hers in one breath. Companion, Dragonborn. It can't help but look good for us that she is one of our number. I will not have it get around that one of our churlish associates drove her out in tears, and a member of the Circle at that. It makes us look petty, Vilkas." Kodlak returned to his seat, tired, but the pain was gone, as if the anger had burned it out of him temporarily.

He mumbled, "No, it makes _me_ look petty."

"I am glad you said it before I could. I'm…disappointed in you, son."

Vilkas winced. "With good reason. Farkas says…I have been cruel. Ria said everyone is getting tired of my behavior."

"Yes, they are. I was going to talk to you about it eventually, but this opened the door."

Vilkas opened and closed his fists as he stood away from the door to pace the room. "I feel like I am losing my mind," he said in a tight voice. "I don't think I can keep doing this much longer. Resisting the call."

"Then don't." The young man looked at him in shock. Kodlak sighed tiredly, leaning on the arm of his seat. "If it is affecting you this badly, then go hunt tonight. I'm beginning to believe it makes no difference in the end whether we resist or not. I'm looking into other…options, shall we say. I will continue to refrain, as my time is nearing and I would at the least go before Tsun with a clean soul."

He shook his head. "No. If you resist, then I shall continue to do so. I will find some other way to manage. Take more jobs myself, get out in the field more with the younglings."

"That sounds reasonable." Kodlak smirked at him and said, "Maybe you could talk Brynhilde into taking you on one of her missions. It might do you some good to see what it is she is out doing. See her in action. Build some rapport between you." The poor girl clearly was sweet on Vilkas if his words had crushed her so terribly. He wondered if the boy even knew, and if knowing would make a difference, make things better or worse. Maybe Vilkas knew and it angered him for some reason, though Ria and Njada's open flirting with him never had.

"I will consider it." It wasn't an outright lie. He would go if she asked first, but she would never ask, and he would never offer. The thought of being out alone on the road or in some crypt with Bryn was distressing, to say the least.

"Go see her now and tell her to come to dinner tonight. I will see if I can drag my sorry carcass upstairs to attend."

"Yes, Harbinger."

"Off with you. Leave the doors open."

Vilkas immediately left Jorrvaskr, to not give himself time to be cowardly about it. He didn't bother to look around the hall as he left, but it seemed empty, as if everyone had fled; maybe they had, not wanting to hear Kodlak's raging. He headed for Breezehome, nodding to the guards as they called "Hail Companion!" as he passed. He could see a commotion outside the building, some of the steward's men unpacking boxes or carrying large furniture, and a few children and citizens watching with excitement over the long vacancy being filled, and by the Dragonborn, no less. Everyone seemed terribly proud that the Dragonborn was choosing Whiterun as her home, making Vilkas feel even lower than before.

Lydia and Bryn were nowhere to be seen, so he went inside the small house, which smelled musty and closed up, thick cobwebs in every corner. It had been empty for so many years that he honestly couldn't remember who the prior owners had been, an older couple perhaps. Lydia suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, and before he could open his mouth she threw a wet, filthy cleaning rag at him, hissing, "You're a despicable human being, Vilkas!"

"Yes, I am aware," he stated quietly, plucking the rag off his armor and throwing it back to her. "Where is she?"

"Why should I tell you?" she retorted as she came down the stairs, fire in her deep blue eyes. "Come to finish her off? Make sure you stomp her down completely this time, not just partway?"

"I came to invite her to Jorrvaskr for a dinner in her honor. And to apologize." Lydia glared at him suspiciously.

"Maybe it would be best if you didn't. Maybe the lot of you should just stay away from her." She moved out of the way of two burly men carrying pieces of a double bed upstairs. Once they were out of earshot she continued, "She has a home of her own now, a safe haven, just as she wanted. She has someone to take care of her now: me. She has the Jarl's trust and respect, and a place in his court. She is Dragonborn, the first in centuries, and her destiny is greater than you…you _mercenaries_ can conceive of. If you only knew the things I've seen her do!"

Vilkas said impatiently, "Yes, yes, I know all this, why do you think I am here, woman? What I did was wrong, everything I have said and done from the start was wrong. I am an ass, a big braying ass. She can punch me in the face if she likes when I see her, and I'll take it without complaint. What do you want from me?"

"I told you: stay away from her."

"No. She is a Companion—"

"She is Dragonborn!"

"She was a Companion first," he countered.

"No, she was not. She was born with the soul of a dragon. It was in her all along, a gift of the Divines. And you spit on it, and her." Lydia pointed at the door. "Get out of my thane's house."

Vilkas sneered, "I will find her on my own then." He turned on his heel and left before he got so angry that it would spill over onto Bryn when he saw her.

He headed back up to the marketplace and checked the Bannered Mare, but no one there had seen her since the last time she left Whiterun; she wasn't in any of the shops either, though Belethor gleefully said she had been there that morning to sell off quite a bit of loot. He asked Carlotta if he had seen Bryn and she said she had seen her about twenty minutes ago, hurrying past on her way down from the Wind District towards her new house. He turned back around, aggravated, wondering if the girl had been hiding in a back room or upstairs all along. He paused across the street on the steps of the Drunken Huntsman, pondering his next move, then he decided to check at Warmaiden's. Adrianne saw everyone come and go, and she wasn't a smart ass like the guardsmen.

He walked across to the smithy and was shocked to see Bryn pounding away at a sword on the anvil. She had changed into a dirty but sturdy wool dress and leather apron and thick gloves. Vilkas had no idea she knew anything about smithing. He came up behind her but she couldn't hear him over her pounding, though he could hear her talking to herself as she did.

"Jackass!" Clank. "Gods, I _hate_ him!" Clank. "I wish this was his face!" Clank. "Prick! Fucking prick!"

Vilkas couldn't help laughing at the scene, and she whirled around, armed with a red-hot sword blank and a very heavy hammer. He put his hands up and said in wry amusement, "Careful there, you could hurt somebody." She glared murderously at him, her golden eyes glowing, though he could see with guilt that her eyes were red from crying. She had smears of soot across her face like warpaint.

"I should," she seethed. "I should put this hammer right in your thick head!"

"I would deserve that, wouldn't I." Her anger faltered as she stared at him, and he waved at her and said, "You shouldn't be exerting yourself like this. You should be resting."

"I can have no rest. I'll never have any rest. And why should you care? You don't, so go away."

_I know what you mean_, he nearly said. None of the Circle slept well, but for entirely different reasons than hers. He suddenly had the horrifying thought that if she joined the Circle she would be offered the Blood. The thought sent a barely suppressed shudder of dismay through him. Kodlak had said that for most of the Companions' history that hadn't been the case, but it was now. Maybe with things what they were now she could join without it being offered. Without ever even knowing about it. It sent guilty concern through him that she would be asked to deal with _that_ on top of what she already did. Then he felt another pang of guilt over her having to deal with his behavior when she was clearly exhausted.

He finally stated, "I have made things intolerable for you, up at Jorrvaskr, and…I apologize." Her anger evaporated, her expression softening, then she blushed and turned away, putting the blade back into the coals. Uncomfortable, he said, "I never knew you could smith."

"I'm not that good at it yet. I'm trying to help Adrianne. She…she needs the help."

"So I have heard. Idolaf Battle-Born never shuts his big mouth about it."

"He's the reason I'm doing this. I overheard him badgering her. And I do want to learn smithing. I need a new set of armor. I'm not leaving town again in Imperial gear." It had caused some tense encounters with the occasional roving Stormcloak soldiers.

"It's an honorable craft. Farkas dabbled in it, when we were younger, helping Eorlund. I know he still misses the work, and he was good at it." As in Eorlund never yelled or grumbled at him, which was saying a lot.

"He should consider taking it up in the future. From what Lydia says, neither of Eorlund's sons is taking after him as he hoped, and if a Gray-Mane no longer works the Skyforge it only seems right that a Companion should."

Vilkas stared at her back then quietly said, "That…is an interesting thought." It had never occurred to him in the slightest. Even Kodlak had never mentioned such a thing, and it was so reasonable that it amazed him that no one had ever brought it up. Eorlund had been heard to curse his sons' lack of interest in the craft now and then, more often in the last half a year since Thorald had disappeared.

"I've had a lot of time to think, lately."

"One wouldn't think so."

"What time should I arrive at Jorrvaskr?"

The abrupt change in subject let him know they were done, as did her refusal to turn around and look at him. "Seven o'clock."

"All right."

She immediately went back to the forge, and he let her be, seeing that was how she wanted it. He had no idea how her thin arms had the strength to lift the hammer. He wished to the gods that he had kept his mouth shut earlier. He must have been out of his mind to have said the things he had to her. He had to find some way to keep his temper under control, to head it off before it grew beyond his ability to contain. There was one surefire way of doing so, but the pickings were slim these days. Farkas was a popular bedmate no matter where he went, but Vilkas was not. Not past the first time. He still wasn't sure what it was about him that put women off after bedding, but no matter how he tried to stifle...whatever it was, it never failed to come out, and the women always seemed uncomfortable afterward, quick to leave. He had never slept with the same woman twice in nearly fifteen years, and most likely never would, and Skyrim was getting very small in that respect and smaller every year. Farkas wanted a wife and children someday, and when the time came he would settle down quickly and easily, the only difficulty picking a mate out of a wide pool of women who would be more than happy to oblige. Vilkas would be happy for him when the time came. Vilkas had never wanted that for himself, his entire life the Companions, but the older he got he couldn't help wondering every so often if he really wanted to end up like Kodlak, or Vignar. Kodlak had told him in his more maudlin moments that the best years of his life had been when the twins were young and running around Jorrvaskr, that it was those memories he clung to more as time passed than any battle he had fought.

Bryn glanced behind her and Vilkas started, realizing he had been staring at her back, lost in thought. He cleared his throat and nodded then quickly left.


	7. Chapter 7

Bryn sighed as she gazed up at Jorrvaskr, framed on either side by the moons. Lydia hadn't wanted her to come tonight. Lydia wanted her to write off the Companions forever. Lydia had argued against Bryn tying her magnificent destiny to a mob of mercenaries and drunks, saying she was meant for more than that, that she was better than that. She thought Lydia was a little jealous, as well as being overprotective, but hadn't said so. Lydia couldn't go everywhere and do everything with her. While she intended to take Lydia with her as much as possible, it wasn't always going to be possible. Lydia couldn't be everything to her, and there were people here who could. She wasn't ready to give up on that hope. If Vilkas hadn't come after her, she would have. She didn't doubt Kodlak had given him hell for what he had done, but in the end it had been Vilkas' choice what to do about it. He had stayed talking to her when he could have delivered his apology and left. He had stayed there staring at her when she hadn't known he was still there.

"Idiot," she whispered chidingly to herself, and went up the stairs. She braced herself before going through the doors, expecting to hear shouting and laughter, but it was quiet, eerily so. She wondered if she had heard the time wrong.

She pushed open the door and to her amazement saw all the Companions at the tables, waiting silently, Kodlak at the center, and he stood as she hesitated on the steps before the fire. He raised a mug and said in a booming voice, "Hail, Shield-Sister! Welcome home!" Cries of _Hail!_ rang through the hall, from all the Companions. Even Vilkas and Njada. She gazed at the Harbinger with wet eyes then looked around the table, and he sank back into his seat and patted the empty one next to him. "Come, sit," he gently ordered. She meekly did so, though she quickly pecked his cheek before sitting down. "Oh ho! None of that now," he said in delight. "This old man's heart can't take that sort of thing anymore."

As Farkas poured her a mug on the other side and the Companions began talking amongst themselves, Bryn whispered to him, "Thank you, Harbinger. I appreciate this." She had been terrified they were going to start shouting _Hail Dragonborn!_ at her, like the guards did. At least it was only Whiterun guards so far who knew who she was on sight, but then she hadn't gone into any other major cities yet.

"We appreciate you giving us another chance," he replied just as quietly. "_I_ appreciate it, more than you know."

"I overreacted."

"No, you did not. Enough of this. Eat, drink, be merry and all that, and perhaps once you're comfortable we could hear a story or two?"

"Yes."

Farkas leaned toward her, tapping his cheek as he said, "Who has a little sugar for Farkas now, eh?" Bryn giggled as the others laughed and she leaned in and peppered his cheek with kisses. He leaned past her and said to Kodlak, "See that?"

"Hard not to," the old man stated.

Torvar began rising out of his seat with a grin, and Bryn's finger shot out as she firmly said, "No, not you!" The others roared at that.

"I'm not even drunk!" he protested as he sank back down. "Not yet, anyway."

Farkas swore to her, "And I promise to not get you drunk." He set a small plate with a sweetroll on it in front of her. "That's for later."

"Oh Farkas," she sighed, patting his cheek as she beamed at him. She stroked his face and asked in surprise, "Are you growing a beard?" His face felt nice, rough in a pleasing way, nothing like a smooth Elven face. Elves began to be able to grow facial hair in early middle age, but they often shaved it off when they did.

"I do sometimes. Like to mix things up a bit. Plus I get tired of looking like him," he said, jabbing his thumb Vilkas' direction. His brother was glowering at them, unnoticed by Bryn, who had her back to him. He couldn't imagine what his twin's problem was this time, but he had been watching them since Bryn sat down.

"I think it will look nice."

"Oh, it will," he said confidently, making her laugh. She was such a beautiful girl when she laughed, not that she wasn't always beautiful. He wished for not the first time that there was some sort of spark between them. The few times they had been around each other they had been so easy with each other. Comfortable. They had hit it off from the start, but then he did with most women. He had never been truly attracted to Bryn, and that was odd for him. He sure loved women. And he kind of loved this one too, but not in the right way. Or maybe it was right.

Bryn frowned as Farkas started to look through her, his eyes going vacant, and she patted his face and whispered, "Farkas!"

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?" No one else had seemed to notice, or maybe had but weren't concerned.

"Oh yeah, yeah. Don't worry about me. Kind of drift off sometimes when I'm thinking about something."

"Well, all right."

"Some people don't think I'm smart. Those people get my fist. But you, I like."

She said in offense, "Anyone implies you're dumb and they'll get _my_ fist."

Farkas grinned at her and lifted his mug. "Cheers, little sister."

"Cheers, big brother."

He glanced at Vilkas, who was staring at the fire, brooding about something as he so often did. He said to Bryn, "Skjor says I have the strength of Ysgramor, and my brother has his smarts."

"Is that so? I haven't seen much evidence of those smarts so far." Kodlak laughed heartily into his mug on her other side. "And there are many kinds of smarts, Farkas. You have a certain…wisdom, I think."

"Wisdom!" Farkas laughed. "Never heard anyone say that about me before." He motioned to her plate and said, "Better eat something, little bird. I heard you spent all afternoon at Warmaiden's pounding away. Can't go doing that when you're supposed to be resting and getting some meat on those bones."

As she put some venison and roasted vegetables on her plate Bryn said, "Vilkas told me you used to smith with Eorlund."

"Well, I wouldn't say that. I mean, he used to let me do simple things around the forge. He never barked at me much though, so maybe I was okay. He's touchy like that." He bit off a chunk of bread and said as he chewed, "I liked it though. Smithing. Kind of miss it sometimes."

"I told Vilkas you should think about doing it again. Ask Eorlund if he could use an apprentice."

"Nah. It's always been a Gray-Mane at the Skyforge. Always."

"Times change, and I'm sure it hasn't been always. Since his sons most likely won't follow him, what can it hurt to ask him? Besides, I see you guys sitting around here so often, you clearly have the free time for it." Farkas shrugged. "I really like smithing. I've been helping Adrianne, when I have time—"

"You're supposed to be resting," he repeated.

"I know, but she needs the help."

"You can't help everyone, lass," Kodlak stated, and she turned to look at him, worry in her eyes. "You're burning the candle at both ends."

"It isn't as if my motivation is entirely unselfish. I find a lot of armor and weapons in my travels. If I can upgrade on the road and not wait until I hit a town it will make my life easier. I need to keep up Lydia's kit as well. We both ended up in some dire straits a few times when neither of us could properly mend our gear or sharpen our blades. I've learned a lot from helping Adrianne."

"All right then. But pace yourself."

"I will," she promised.

"So, this new home of yours…how do you like it?"

Bryn's gaze darted over to Vilkas, who was rolling his eyes as Athis once again expounded on the virtues of small blades. "We're still unpacking, but it's nice. Very cozy." Lydia kept a fire burning at all times, so the house was warm and comfortable, and Bryn now had secure chests to keep any loot she found. There was also a small room off the dining area with an alchemy table, which was interesting. Maybe she'd ask Arcadia to show her how it worked. It would be useful to know how to mix up healing potions, and Skyrim was full of interesting mushrooms and plants that had to be good for something.

"And dare say a sight different from what you're used to." Bryn nodded, still nervous about her heritage being brought up. "I visited the Imperial City a few times when I was young. Never liked it. Too hard, too much stone. Never liked Windhelm for much the same reason, or Markarth. They say that city was built by the Dwemer. Have you seen any Dwemer ruins yet in your travels?"

"No, not yet. Plenty of caves though, and not one of them empty. I swear the ones Lydia and I cleared out will be re-inhabited in a month's time."

"Oh, I don't doubt it. But it keeps…keeps us in business." He shifted in his seat, feeling a pang of agony in his gut that nearly doubled him over. Bryn put her hand on her arm and he whispered, "I'm fine, lass."

She withdrew her hand and shifted her gaze away, seeing the others had noticed and showed varying degrees of concern. Beads of sweat stood out on Kodlak's brow. She refilled his empty mug from a chilled bottle and went on in an effort to take his mind off his ailment. He took a long drink of it and Bryn could see his hand shaking slightly. "We, Lydia and I…we climbed the Seven Thousand Steps. We um, we took turns counting them, to take our mind off the climb, but kept losing track. Do you think anyone has ever actually counted every one?" Kodlak shook his head, his eyes closed. The group had gone silent, listening, and she supposed it was time to tell her tale, if only to distract the Harbinger from his pain. "It took most of the day," she started.

"Speak up, girl," Vignar demanded. "I can't hear a damn word you're saying."

"She said the climb took most of the day," Brill repeated helpfully.

"What climb? What the hell was she climbing?"

"The Seven Thousand Steps to High Hrothgar."

"Ah yes," Vignar sighed in a wistful tone. "Quite the climb, that. Done it a good dozen times in my life."

Bryn said with dread, "I just may meet that number by time the Greybeards are done with me."

Grinning, Farkas called across to his twin, "Hey, remember that time we planned to climb the Steps then sled all the way down? Maybe she should try that, huh? Save half the trouble?" Bryn laughed merrily at that and even Kodlak chuckled briefly.

Vilkas couldn't help laughing at the memory, saying, "It seemed a good idea at the time."

He said to Bryn, "Maybe I'll go with you one of the times you go up there. I always wanted to see a Greybeard."

"They don't seem to enjoy visitors," Bryn said with regret. "They made Lydia stay by the doors the whole time. They barely acknowledged her existence."

"Probably didn't know what to do with two pretty girls at the same time. I've never had that problem." She laughed again, her cheeks pink. "So what did they say?"

"Well, only one talked, Master Arngeir. The others were too strong to speak; they can only Shout. But Master Arngeir has been able to master his voice enough to talk normally."

"So you can Shout, right?"

She hesitated and said, "Well, yes, a little. Parts of three Shouts are all I know so far." She had learned _Feim_ in Ustengrav, and it had settled instantly due to the soul of the dragon she had absorbed in Ivarstead. She had tried it right away and Lydia had nearly screamed when she went transparent.

"Show me." Bryn grimaced, and he nudged her shoulder. "C'mon. Show us one. I promise this is the only time I'll ever ask."

Vignar scowled as he barked at Farkas, "The _thu'um_ isn't a party trick, boy!"

"I don't mind," Bryn lied. Farkas didn't mean any harm by it, and maybe it would help the group take her more seriously, and help them understand why she wouldn't be able to spend much time here once she was rested up. And maybe it would teach Vilkas a little respect.

"You should," Vignar scolded. "These are our sacred traditions we're talking about."

"Yes. The Greybeards impressed all that on me. I spent two days studying with them. My doing this is not intended disrespectfully, Revered."

"Well…all right. Have to admit I wouldn't mind seeing it for myself."

Ria clapped her hands and nearly squealed in excitement as Bryn rose from her seat. Bryn smiled slyly at Farkas and asked, "How would you like to be part of the demonstration, since you wanted this so?"

No longer amused, Farkas looked at her warily and muttered, "I don't know. Depends."

"This shouldn't hurt."

"Shouldn't, or won't?" Bryn shrugged. He got up. "Okay, but Vilkas has to do it with me."

"No, I do not," Vilkas said in annoyance.

"C'mon, don't be a stick in the mud."

"Leave me alone."

"Uh-uh."

From the amused looks on everyone's faces this was a long-running thing between the twins, and Bryn bit her lip and tried not to laugh as Farkas pulled Vilkas out of his seat by force and dumped him on his feet, Farkas the same height as his brother but much stronger.

"I will kill you for this," Vilkas hissed at him. "These are my good clothes!"

"Stop being a pansy," Farkas said with a smile. "We're about to get Shouted at by the Dragonborn and live. Who can say that?" He looked at Bryn and added, his eyes twinkling, "We're going to live, right?"

"I'm fairly certain," Bryn said, deliberately sounding uncertain, and she heard a snicker from Skjor.

"Take it like a man!" the older warrior yelled at Vilkas, grinning.

Aela added, "It is an honor to be killed by the Dragonborn, Vilkas. You should be more grateful."

"All right, all right," Vilkas groaned. "Let's just get this over with."

"That's the spirit," Farkas said with a grin.

Bryn stood in the open area away from the tables and fire. It would be better to do this outside, but she didn't want to drag everyone out there, and frankly she wanted this over with as well. She motioned for the two men to stand about twelve feet away from her. Farkas was grinning from ear to ear, like an excited little boy, while Vilkas' face was like stone, his pale eyes glaring at her as if saying _You know you can put a stop to this at any time_. Yes, she could, and wasn't going to. "Brace yourselves," she murmured. They quickly did so, and Vilkas' eyes widened as she opened her mouth, a split second before the power came rushing out.

"_FUS!_" The two brothers stumbled backwards as everyone gasped. As they righted themselves, she said, "That was the first part of Unrelenting Force. The second part, _Ro_, would knock you to your knees. I don't know the third part yet."

"Wow," Farkas laughed. "Never felt anything like that before!"

"And hopefully never will again," Vilkas said sourly, running his hands back through his short dark hair as he returned to his seat. It had felt like a giant fist of air punching his entire body at once. There was no doubting however that Bryn was certainly Dragonborn; for a normal person, learning even a single part of one Shout took months or even years of study with the Greybeards, or so he had heard. The only other living being who knew how to Shout was Ulfric Stormcloak, and he had spent nearly a decade in High Hrothgar learning what he knew. Dragonborn…it just didn't seem possible. Some scrawny, half-breed girl from Cyrodiil? He wasn't sure he would ever be able to wrap his mind around it.

* * *

Vilkas frowned as he came upstairs just as Bryn was going out the front doors, armed and armored. He went to Aela, who it seemed had just been talking to her, and asked, "Where is she off to this time?"

"Valtheim Keep," she answered.

"What for?"

"It seems Amren finally found someone to fetch his father's sword for him."

"Did he also finally come up with the coin for the job?"

"No, he did not." Vilkas' eyes narrowed as he grumbled and went for the door, and she warned him, "I'd watch it with her if I were you, brother."

Vilkas ignored her and pushed through the doors, seeing Bryn going down the stairs. "Hey," he called. She paused and looked up at him then away again, in that way that always made him uneasy. For the last several weeks she had been splitting her free time between Jorrvaskr and Warmaiden's, training with the Companions and helping Adrianne fill the Legion's order. She had gone out on a few small jobs in the meantime as she built up her strength and reserves, and from what he could tell she was there. She had put on much-needed weight and lean muscle, mostly from Farkas' force-feeding her from what Vilkas could tell. His twin seemed to take some odd pleasure in babying Bryn, and Vilkas still hadn't gotten up the courage to ask him if the two were sleeping together. From the affection between them it appeared they were; Farkas often had his arm around Bryn's shoulders, and Bryn always had a kiss for Farkas' cheek, though to be fair she always had one for Vignar and Kodlak as well. The two often retreated to Farkas' room, and Farkas sometimes visited Breezehome, and at those times it nearly drove Vilkas mad debating with himself as to whether anything was actually going on. He had never seen his twin act like this with a woman before.

Well, if she were his brother's woman, he had to treat her with respect, and he had. He had taught her about the Companions' history, had taught her anything she wanted to know, though training with her had been rather uncomfortable, for both of them. The girl wouldn't look him in the eye for more than a few seconds at a time, if at all, but he often caught her staring at him. It made him alternately restless and angry, feeling the lack of female company, wondering if the girl wanted them both, something that made him feel ill. He and his brother had agreed nearly fifteen years ago to tell each other who they had been with and keep a distance there, not fishing the same pond for several months afterward, and it had worked for them. But Farkas wasn't telling him about Bryn. And Vilkas couldn't bring himself to ask. Asking would make it seem like he was interested in her himself, and he most definitely was not. He would never touch a Shield-Sister in that way, but then he had been sure Farkas never would either.

She glanced at him then away again, saying, "I told Aela where I was going. I have something that needs doing."

"How much is Amren paying you for it?"

"Nothing, as far as I'm aware." She heard a growling, scoffing sound and looked up at him, seeing he was angry. Not that it ever took much.

"You would risk your life for nothing?"

She folded her arms and said, "His family doesn't have much. He has a wife and child to feed. Should I have his family starve so the Companions get their coin?"

"Of course not. That sword should sit where it has for the last two years, rusting in some bandit's lair." _Like the piece of trash it is_, he nearly added, before catching himself.

"Until he comes up with the coin, you mean."

"Yes. Yes, that is exactly what I mean. Good intentions won't put food on our table."

"I've never seen that table empty, so it would seem you're all still doing rather well for yourselves."

"We can't go down that road," Vilkas insisted more quietly, moving closer to her when he saw a guard by the Gildergreen watching and trying to pretend he wasn't. He swore a natural nosiness was the main prerequisite for the job. "That has never been our way."

"Perhaps your way should change." Vilkas shook his head as he put his hands on his hips and looked out over the city. As she gazed at him her heart ached. How she wished he wasn't so damned handsome, and how she wished she and Farkas could love each other the way they wanted to. They'd even tried one night to sleep with each other, about a week and a half ago, and they'd both ended up laughing their heads off before they could get very far. She had told Farkas then that she was a virgin and he had suggested setting her up with someone to take care of the job, in his blunt yet caring way, and she had been so mortified by it that they hadn't spoken of it since. Not openly anyway; he wasn't above teasing her obliquely about it. He knew that she had feelings for his brother, and he'd told her they couldn't go anywhere, that Vilkas had never touched a fellow Companion and never would, but then he'd told her he would never do that either and he had been willing to try with her. How she wished she could transfer that spark to the right brother!

"You think we should just dump four thousand years of history in the privy?"

"No, I didn't say that-"

"You can talk about honor all you want, but in the end it is coin we fight for. We are not a charity, woman."

"I realize that, _man_, but it doesn't mean you can't show some once in a while. I can't operate as a pure mercenary, Vilkas. I can't. People need my help, _our_ help. I find it hard to believe that if you came upon someone getting attacked on the road that you wouldn't help until you found out what monetary gain was in it for you."

"Of course not, and if offends me that you would even suggest it."

"If people can pay for our services, then they should. If they can't, we should still try to help them. If the Companions don't want to do that, then I will do it on my own. The client gets their problem solved, I pick up some loot and experience, and the Companions get their name attached to a good deed. It's a win for everyone."

"Except, once again, it puts no coin in our coffers. Jorrvaskr does not run itself." Bryn frowned at him, and when she was silent he looked at her warily. "What?"

"What are you afraid of?"

He glowered at her. "What do you mean, what am I afraid of? I am afraid of nothing. I simply have to look out for this company's best interests." Kodlak was either too ill or too preoccupied these days to do so, and Skjor had no head for it, so the burden of balancing the books fell to Vilkas. Not that he found it such a burden, but it was a large responsibility. The Companions had been doing rather well for themselves lately though, he had to give her that.

"I've refused my cut of all the jobs I've taken recently. That should even things out." Vilkas was taken aback by that, his scowl deepening. "I want—I _need_—to help people. What am I here for, if not that? Why do I exist? What is my purpose?"

He met her earnest gaze for several moments then he was the one to look away first. He wasn't used to having philosophical discussions with the girl, or anyone, really; he enjoyed them, but Jorrvaskr was light on stimulating conversation on even the best of days. He knew what she was asking: why was she Dragonborn, and why had the Dragonborn appeared now? "The Greybeards didn't tell you?"

"No, and I didn't think to ask while I was there. I was numb at the time. And to be honest, I'm afraid to find out. I'm not here to clear out bandits and necromancers, I know that. Anyone can do that." She bit her lip as she watched Heimskr come out of his house to start his preaching. She murmured to herself, "I suppose I should go find who has the Horn." She had a good feeling about what her purpose was anyway, from reading and re-reading that damn _Book of the Dragonborn_. No, it wasn't a good feeling. There was nothing good about it at all.

"Of Jurgen Windcaller?"

"Yes. I've put off the task longer than I should have. The more I think about it however…it makes me rather angry. Everything Lydia and I went through to get the Horn, and they have the…_nerve_ to leave me a note?"

"What did it say, exactly?" He found himself curious against his will. Bryn hadn't elaborated on much of anything the night she'd returned to Jorrvaskr. Everyone had wanted to hear about her battles, about the dragons she had fought. So had he, but getting the details now was interesting.

"'_Dragonborn- I need to speak to you. Urgently. Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you. –A Friend'_."

Vilkas slowly shook his head, frowning. "Sounds like a trap."

"Yes, it rather does. I want that Horn though. Maybe after I finish up at Valtheim. It shouldn't take long."

"No, I would imagine not. Clearing it out was one of the first jobs Farkas and I took together, when we were just pups, barely able to grow half a beard. Vignar says even he can't remember Companions younger than us."

Bryn smiled and said, "Farkas has told me plenty of stories about the trouble you two were always getting into."

"I think every Companion here when we were growing up tanned our hides at some point or another," he laughed.

"From what he's told me, you both deserved it, though…" She shook her head, suddenly troubled. "I could never strike a child. I never…um, well, mer don't do that. Spank their children. I was never hit as a child. No one had ever struck me until my cousin bashed me in the head." Vilkas grunted, his expression dark, his eyes haunted. He shook his head and moved to leave. "He told me, about Jergen."

"Of course he did. He probably told you that our 'father' raised us here as happy little pups, biting at knees. I love my brother, but his brains are not his strong suit." He hesitated then said, "I don't know if the man was our father, and I don't care. He left to fight in the Great War and never came back. Tilma and Kodlak raised us after that, as best they could. We owe Jergen our lives, but that is all he gave us."

"About Farkas…" She saw Vilkas suddenly tense up, his cheeks flushing. The reaction was bizarre, but she pushed on. Vilkas was talking to her, really talking to her, about personal things, not just some dry history. "I love him too, but the way he drifts off at times…it worries me. Has he seen a healer? I asked him to and he brushed it off and told me I was being silly."

Vilkas said tightly, "It is nothing a healer can help."

"But—"

"Since you have spent so much time with my brother," he stated with extreme difficulty, "and he told you about Jergen, surely he told you how we came here."

"Yes, and it was horrible. I should be glad he remembers so little of it." They had been held captive by a circle of necromancers, until Jergen had found and rescued them. Farkas was sure that Jergen was their father.

"As am I, but the reason for it…"

When he didn't continue she softly said, "It's all right, Vilkas. I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

He shook his head. "No, if you're going to be around my brother you should know." He took a deep breath then went on quietly, his eyes unfocused, "We were just babes, three maybe, so I remember little of it. I remember nothing before it, anyway. But I remember that Farkas and I were the same, before…well, before. They were…brutal to us. I can't begin to fathom why we were there at all other than to amuse them."

"Oh Vilkas," Bryn breathed, her eyes wet. The disconnected way he spoke of it was more heartbreaking than grief or anger would have been.

"One day, I suppose we must have caused them more trouble than usual. One of them, an Altmer woman, took Farkas from our cage and swung him against the cave wall, then threw him back in the cage. I thought he was dead. It wasn't until he started moving again two days later that I realized he wasn't. Jergen found us the day after that and got a healing potion into him, or I think he probably would have died, but still, the damage was done."

"Merciful Mara," she whispered, close to bawling. Tears were running down her cheeks. She couldn't help wondering if that was why Vilkas had hated her at first, knowing she was half-Altmer.

"Ever since then he has had trouble. I was no better than a wild animal for months after that, and Farkas barely spoke at all and used to hide in whatever nook or cranny he could find, and when he did speak, he no longer sounded just like me. Jergen was patient with us, they all were, especially Tilma, but I think caring for us wore him down. We were not quite eight years old when he left. I suppose going off to war seemed preferable to raising two hellions, whether they were your own or not." He heard a sniff and finally looked at her, and she was staring at him with an anguished expression. He shook his head and looked away. "Do not grieve for me, if you are," he said sternly. He couldn't stand the thought of her weeping for him when he had been so cruel to her.

"I grieve for those two little boys, and I will never feel sorry for my own upbringing ever again." His frown deepened, but he didn't seem angry. She pulled off her gauntlet and rubbed the tears off her cheeks. "I will leave you alone now," she said quietly. "Farewell, brother."

"Farewell…sister," he murmured. It was the first time she had ever called him such a thing. He couldn't help wondering either if she called him that because he was a fellow Companion, or because he was her lover's brother. He couldn't help hearing her voice over and over again though…_Oh Vilkas_. _It's all right, Vilkas_. _Oh Vilkas_… It made him feel like punching something.

Bryn turned away and went down the steps then across the courtyard, the sun glinting off her pale blond hair. He watched as Danica Pure-Spring rose from a bench and stopped her, concerned about her tears, and Bryn shook her head and waved her off. Bryn then pointed at the tree, and as Danica gestured at it and talked he grumbled in aggravation, wondering if she was being talked into another fool mission. The tree had been dead for years but the priestess refused to give up on it, still treating it as if it were alive. When Bryn folded her arms and pinched her lower lip thoughtfully he whispered, "Damn it, woman, don't you dare…" Bryn nodded and Danica looked delighted.

Vilkas sighed heavily, and when Bryn glanced up at him he slowly shook his head. She shrugged and smiled at him, and he couldn't help snorting a laugh and shaking his head again. Her smile brightened and she beamed at him, her eyes glowing, then she turned away and walked down to the Plains District with a spring in her step. It was just as she disappeared from sight that he realized she was wearing new armor of oiled leather, something she must have recently crafted at Warmaiden's. She was there nearly every day and had even spent some time up at the Skyforge talking to Eorlund, so she seemed serious about the craft. The armor looked serviceable and well-fitted, so it looked as if she knew what she was doing, though it worried him that she favored light armor. He would never want just leather between him and a blade. She had a shield and was competent with it, thanks to Njada, though the two women couldn't stand each other. If Bryn wanted to go out and save the world no better equipped than a bandit that was her decision. At least this time it seemed she was doing so with a clear head.


	8. Chapter 8

"Now look what you've gotten yourself into."

Bryn put her hand over her eyes, feeling like an idiot. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking," she said in dismay. "I should've seen that coming." Running this job with Farkas felt strange to say the least. Since hitting the road he had shown little of the humor or sweetness he showed at Jorrvaskr, and since entering Dustman's Cairn he had been all business. While Bryn had watched him train plenty, his prowess in their first encounter with draugr a few minutes before that had been astonishing. He had barely broken a sweat while she had struggled a bit; these draugr had been up and walking around already, unsettled by whoever had gone through the crypt before her and Farkas. She was used to picking them off at a comfortable distance, or at least getting a few arrows in before having to deal with them hand-to-hand. In the close quarters of a few minutes ago that had been impossible. When they returned to Whiterun she would make sure to get more light weapons training from Athis and Amren.

"No worries. Just sit tight and I'll find the release."

"All right. Sorry, I-" Bryn gasped, startled, as the other barred gate rose and half a dozen bandits ran in from the other tunnel, weapons raised. Before she could warn Farkas he spun around, his two-handed sword in his hands.

"Aw hell," Farkas muttered.

"Time to die, dog!" one of the bandits yelled. "We knew you'd be coming, _Companion_."

The last was said with contempt, confusing Bryn to no end; the Companions were universally respected, not only in Skyrim but all of Tamriel, or so Vilkas had told her. The bars of the grate were too close together for her to shoot at the bandits with any accuracy, and Farkas was being encircled by them, making it impossible for her to Shout them away without also stunning him. Bryn clung to the bars, biting her lip to stay silent in an effort to not distract him. Clearly, these weren't ordinary bandits, but whoever they were it was beyond her why they had laid what was turning out to be a trap for one of the Companions. This entire job should have been quick and easy; after much debate amongst themselves the Circle felt that Bryn should go through the usual route of becoming a full-fledged Companion whether she was Dragonborn or not, just to avoid any resentment from the others, and she didn't mind. She had already done plenty of small jobs for them but hadn't gone through her Trial, so this was it; she would retrieve the fragment of Wuuthrad that supposedly resided here, while Farkas 'observed' to make sure she behaved honorably. It was all just a formality, Skjor had said.

"Which one is that?" a woman asked.

"Doesn't matter," yet a fourth answered. "He wears that armor, he dies."

"Killing you will make for an excellent story," the woman said with delight as she closed on the big warrior.

Farkas growled, "None of you will be alive to tell it."

Bryn's cried out in dismay as Farkas bent over and his sword clattered to the ground. She feared he had gotten hit by an unseen archer, but then he began to twist and growl, and she watched in horror as his armor fell away and his clothes split from his skin, which was quickly becoming covered in coarse black fur. He reared back and roared, and Bryn squealed in terror and stumbled backwards away from the gate. Her heart hammered so hard in her chest that white noise filled her ears. Farkas was a werewolf. Her dear friend was a murderous beast. A creature that feasted on human flesh. She had heard plenty of stories about werewolves, and they were horrible monsters, killers, baby eaters, cannibals. And the entire Circle… She shuddered as Farkas swung around him, sending the bandits flying. The entire Circle were werewolves. They all wore the same armor, emblazoned with a wolf's head, except for Aela, and Bryn didn't fool herself that the older woman wasn't also a werewolf. She had to be.

That overheard conversation between Vilkas and Kodlak now made perfect, terrible sense. _'I still hear the call of the Blood.' 'We all do.'_ Her beloved Vilkas was a monster, and that dear old man as well. She simply couldn't believe it. They were all good people, she was sure of it. Vilkas had sounded tormented, as if it were a curse, and Kodlak's words bore that out: _'It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome.'_ Maybe they were trying to fight it. Trying to find a cure. She had to cling to that hope. She had to, or the Circle were nothing but savage beasts and she would feel compelled to destroy them, the people who had become a surrogate family to her. She hoped to the Divines she wasn't forced to do that, or try to rather.

It didn't take long for Farkas to dispatch the last of his attackers. He stood at the center of the room and breathed heavily, making small growling sounds, and when his head swung around to look at Bryn she shivered and met his gaze with huge eyes, resisting the urge to grab her sword. He stared at her for a few seconds then hung his head and rubbed his nose, then he made a sad whining sound and ran out of the room. Bryn flinched as she heard the sound of a thrown lever then the gate started to rise.

When Farkas didn't reappear she hesitantly left the alcove, feeling her gorge rise as she looked at the shredded bodies. She was used to blood and death, but there was something so horribly wrong about all this, about seeing human beings reduced to…meat. Farkas still wasn't appearing, and she steeled herself and whispered, "Farkas!"

"Yeah."

"Where are you?"

"Uh…hiding."

The deep unhappiness in his voice touched her and took away some of her fear. He hadn't wanted to have to do that in front of her, she was sure of it. She licked her lips then said in a trembling voice, "Come out. I…I won't run away."

"I hope I didn't scare you," he said miserably as he came out of the tunnel, holding a scrap of tattered, moldy grave linen over his groin. "I mean, I know I did. Scare you."

"Maybe a little," she whispered, near tears from the shame and embarrassment in his expression. Of course he would never hurt her. "What happened? That…thing you did?"

"It's a blessing given to some of us. The Circle. We can be like wild beasts when we want to. Fearsome." He stood there for a moment, looking around for his pack, and Bryn found it and held it out to him and looked away. He glanced at her as he got dressed and she was looking elsewhere, frowning, her eyes glistening as if she were about to cry. He sighed heavily and strapped back on his armor; it was made to break away during the transformation but was a bitch to get back on afterward.

"So, all of you then."

He was relieved when she finally spoke. "Yeah, the whole Circle. Vilkas and Kodlak and I have been trying not to change. Not to give in. Kodlak worries we'll be kept out of Sovngarde when we die, that we'll be forced into Hircine's Hunting Grounds for an eternity. Skjor and Aela are fine with that, but we're not. Kodlak has been trying to find a cure, but it's hard. The rot is getting worse all the time."

"Do any of the other Companions know?"

"Nah, it's a secret to everybody. Well, not everybody. Eorlund knows. He kind of has to. And Tilma. She knows everything that goes on in Jorrvaskr, not sure how. Vilkas thinks Vignar knows too. He said he asked Vignar once when we were kids why he wasn't a member of the Circle, since he was so old, and Vignar looked at him funny and said they asked him to join but he decided it just wasn't for him."

"I see." She didn't blame the old man for not wanting to become a werewolf; the price to join the Circle was simply too high. "It's been a while then? Since you've changed?"

"Yeah, quite a while. Nearly three months I think, both me and Vilkas." He shouldered his pack then looked for his sword. He began overturning bodies with his foot as he looked for it. "I don't really miss it. I never really did it all that much to begin with. The beastblood doesn't affect me like it does the others. Especially Vilkas. It's been pretty hard on him."

"That's…too bad."

"It's part of the reason he was such a jackass to you at first. The smallest thing pissed him off. All that bottled-up tension, you know?"

"Sure." It actually helped quite a bit to know that.

"Of course you don't," he sighed, hitting his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Hey, there it is," he said with relief, grabbing up his sword and sliding it into the sheath across his back. "We'd better keep moving. Might be more of them around."

"But who are they?"

"The Silver Hand. Bad people who don't like werewolves. So they don't like us either." He motioned with his head toward the tunnel. "Come on, let's finish this. Keep an eye out, there might be more Silver Hand down here." Bryn nodded, still not meeting his eyes. He sighed and said, "Hey, we can't go on until this is sorted out. You're still thinking."

"I'm always thinking."

"I mean about the werewolf thing."

She frowned deeply, hesitating, then said, "The things I've heard about werewolves…they aren't good."

"I've never eaten a baby, if that's what you mean." Bryn gaped at him, horrified, and when she saw him smirking she made a sound of offense and smacked him on the arm, making him laugh. "It isn't what you're thinking. We don't have to turn every full moon, though it's hard not to. We don't run around eating people, at least Vilkas and I don't. There was a guy in the Circle, years ago, named Arnbjorn… Kodlak and Skjor found out he was out hunting people, every chance he got, and kicked him out. Not sure where he went after that. They probably should've just killed him. He's probably the one that ended up getting the Silver Hand on our trail, with the stuff he did."

"So you've never eaten another person. You or Vilkas. Not one bite." He hesitated, and she shuddered and looked away, feeling sick.

"It was early on," he said in a pleading voice. "When you first turn you don't have the control you get later on. We both did things we aren't proud of, when we were younger, but it's been a long time Bryn, I swear. We aren't savages or cannibals."

She stared into his pale eyes for a long moment, seeing he was honestly distressed, then she nodded and looked away. "All right," she whispered. "Just…give me time to think about it. Get used to the idea."

"We're hoping you won't have to. Kodlak is trying to find a cure. He says it wasn't always like this. The Circle I mean." She nodded again. "Come on, let's go."

As they made their way through the crypt they encountered a number of Silver Hand members, and Farkas didn't feel compelled to change again. Bryn found a good amount of gold on them along with potions for curing disease and a couple copies of _Physicality of Werewolves_, one of which she stuck in her pack to look at later. It seemed the numbers of Silver Hand would never end, but after reaching a large room and finding a key to the lower levels it they had apparently seen the last of them.

They finally passed through a set of double doors and came into a room filled with sarcophagi, and Farkas whispered, "This can't be good."

"It most certainly is not," she agreed. "It…ah, well."

Farkas followed her gaze to the far end of the room, where a rune-covered wall dominated. "Is that one of those word walls?"

"Yes."

"I've seen those before. Up high on mountains, or down in places like this. Never thought much of them, since they didn't seem to do anything. They feel kind of creepy but that's it." She didn't answer, staring at the wall. "Can you read it?"

"No. It's in the dragon language. The Greybeards know it, but I don't. Not yet." She licked her lips and continued, "I ah, have to go look at it."

"Sure. I'll cover your back."

The two Companions crept as quietly as possible across the room, both of them with skin crawling over the number of crypts against the walls. Bryn saw the fragments of Wuuthrad on a small pedestal on the table in front of the wall, and she cautioned, "Don't touch that yet. It's most likely a pressure plate."

"Got it." Farkas stayed next to the table as Bryn walked to the wall as if drawn to it. She staggered slightly as her hands went to the wall as if to hold her up, and she squeezed her eyes shut as the words glowed faintly then died. It seemed rather anticlimactic, nothing like what the select guards who had helped her kill the first dragon had seen.

"_Yol_," Bryn whispered.

"What's that?"

"The word is _Yol_." She rubbed her eyes then shook her head, feeling the word floating in her skull, unanchored.

"A new Shout?" She nodded. "Can you use it now?"

"No. I haven't seen any dragons since Ivarstead. Without a soul available to help…anchor, I suppose, anchor the word, I can't perform that shout. I won't really know what the Shout does until I use it for the first time." She rotated her neck and shoulders then pulled out her sword and shield. "Ready, Shield-Brother?"

"Any time you are, Shield-Sister."

Bryn picked up the heavy fragment and quickly slid it into the front of her armor, and within seconds the first pop of a casket was heard. Farkas grinned at her then ran towards the action, and Bryn stayed off to the side with her bow, either finishing off those he had damaged or putting in the initial damage and letting him finish them off. Between the two of them they quickly dispatched at least a dozen draugr, and while it had been challenging it had been easier than dealing with the Silver Hand, who had the cunning of the living on their side.

"Now that's what I call a fight!" Farkas shouted happily. "We make a good team, little bird!"

"That we do, big bear," she replied in kind.

"Big bear, huh? I like that." He nodded up the wood stairs to a crypt that lay open to a tunnel. "What do you want to bet that's the way out?" She nodded, slinging her bow onto her back. She pulled out the steel fragment and showed it to him. "You keep that safe, you earned it. Let's get back to Jorrvaskr."

"Let's."

It was late afternoon outside when they left Dustman's Cairn. Bryn never could keep track of time underground and was always surprised by how much had passed. Neither suggested spending the night inside the barrow by the warm braziers; Whiterun was only a few hours away, and after a brief rest, a drink and a quick meal they set off for home.

The walk back was wonderful to Bryn, spending time with a dear friend under a fantastic sky, with no one else on the road other than a lone courier running past going the opposite way. They spent the entire time talking, Farkas free to tell her more about his and Vilkas' past now that she knew they were werewolves. Her anxiety and distaste over it eased as the night went on and she realized that the particular brand of lycanthropy that afflicted the Circle wasn't quite the same as what she had read about. Farkas had no idea how it had originally come about, but Kodlak seemed to think it hadn't always been that way. Bryn was also able to gather quite a few flowers on the way home for use in potions; Arcadia had shown her how to make the most basic ones, those with a single effect, but for now that was all she needed. She could heal herself but Lydia needed healing potions. One of these days Bryn was going to have to learn the spell to heal others; it would be easier to do that than carry around heavy, clunky potions.

It was nearly full dark by time they returned to Jorrvaskr, to find Vilkas standing at the top of the steps. Bryn couldn't help admiring him, tall and unfairly handsome, still in full armor with his greatsword across his back even at this late hour. He smiled slightly at her, making her heart flutter a bit. So he was a werewolf. Well, that was all right, if he was as honorable in his behavior as Farkas said they were. It certainly explained a lot about his temperament, though.

"We've been awaiting your return," he stated.

"Why is that?" she asked.

"Come, follow me."

She glanced at Farkas and saw a smile playing about his mouth, and she guessed this was all part of the formalities. It would be good to get it over with so Torvar and Athis would stop with their mutterings and Njada would lose an excuse for her dirty looks, though of course they wouldn't completely cease.

When they reached the back of Jorrvaskr she saw the rest of the Circle standing in the training yard. The rest of the Companions were gathered under the porch. The twins joined the others in the Circle, and they all certainly made a majestic sight in their wolf armor. She hesitated but Kodlak motioned for her to come join them. They left a space open for her between Aela and Vilkas and she went to stand there, feeling grubby and not very presentable, but then Farkas was too.

Though it was all only a formality, the brief ceremony that followed was deeply touching, Farkas' words especially so. He was solemn as he said the ceremonial words, but his eyes shone, and she couldn't help beaming at him as he spoke.

"It shall be so," the Circle chorused, then broke up and moved into the mead hall with the others, leaving her alone with Kodlak. This was the first time Bryn had seen him outside, and only the second time she had seen him upstairs. He was in full armor and looked uncomfortable, though he hid it well.

"Well girl, you're one of us now. I trust you won't disappoint."

"I will do everything in my power not to, Harbinger," she stated. She turned and glanced back to see that they were alone then turned back to Kodlak, licking her lips as she frowned slightly.

"Your expression is troubled," he stated. "What is it?"

"We were ambushed in the Cairn," she said softly. "By the Silver Hand." Kodlak made a sound of dismay and closed his eyes. "I was trapped in an alcove. Farkas was surrounded. He…did what he had to, to protect us both."

"I see." He opened his eyes. "You've been allowed to know some secrets before your appointed time. No matter. Yes, it is true: we are werewolves. Only we of the Circle share the Blood of the beast, though some take to it more than others. I'm sure you can guess who those are."

"Yes, I think so." Aela, most certainly. Vilkas, probably, his denial of it extremely difficult on him. "And what of you, Harbinger?"

"Well, I grow old. My mind turns to the horizon. To Sovngarde. I worry that Shor won't call an animal to glory as he would a true Nord warrior. Living as beasts draws our souls closer to the Daedric Lord Hircine. Some may crave an eternity in his hunting grounds, but I crave the fellowship of Sovngarde. I am a man, not a hound at some foul Daedra's beck and call." That last sentence was exactly what had come out of Vignar's mouth when he had declined to join the Circle. Kodlak had thought him a fool at the time.

"Farkas said you were looking to cure yourself?"

"Yes, but it is no easy matter." He shook his head. "You needn't concern yourself with the worries of an old warrior. Tonight is to rejoice in your bravery. And tomorrow, speak to Eorlund if you want a better weapon to replace…whatever _that_ is."

"Yes, Harbinger." She had gotten used to her steel sword, but she had to admit it was old, repaired a few too many times, found in some cave she and Lydia had traipsed through. Having Skyforged steel in its place would make her feel much more secure. She would make certain to get herself a new sword first thing in the morning, then she and Lydia would be setting out again, this time to finally track down the person who had stolen the horn of Jurgen Windcaller right from under her nose. She just hoped she hadn't waited too long, and that the note was sincere, because if they weren't a friend…

* * *

At the sound of the lock on the front door turning, Lydia ran downstairs. Seeing Bryn she hurried over to take the heavy pack from her, saying breathlessly, "My thane, another dragon?" She could hear the particular clank that dragon scale and bone had to it. They had collected some from the dragon in Ivarstead and kept it in the chest in the alchemy room. Neither woman was sure what good it was to collect them, but if nothing else they made good trophies and could be sold if the coin was needed. Bryn's armor was scorched and the tips of her hair singed, and she looked tired but edgy, having been gone for days.

"Yes."

The tension in Bryn's voice and the fire in her eyes was something new, something Lydia wasn't used to. Bryn was seething about something. "Did that woman betray you?" Lydia asked, her own protective anger rising in response. Delphine had been furious that Bryn had brought Lydia to the meeting in Riverwood, and had refused to speak any further to her until Lydia had been sent back to Whiterun. Bryn had been angry then but willing to listen, recognizing the woman from the time early on when Bryn had retrieved the dragonstone for Farengar.

"No, she did not, but…ugh." She pulled off her helmet and stuck it under her arm and shook out her fair hair. "What do you know of the Blades?"

"She's a Blade?" Lydia whispered in shock. "I thought they were all dead."

"Apparently not. She wanted me to _prove_ I was Dragonborn. It wasn't enough for me to demonstrate a Shout or two. She wanted me to kill a dragon in front of her and take its soul. So I did. She helped, I'll give her that. We went to Kynesgrove and saw that black dragon from Helgen, raising another from the dead. Sahloknir. Delphine thinks the Thalmor have something to do with all this, the dragons coming back. I don't see how they could. This is bigger than the Thalmor or the Aldmeri Dominion, though I don't doubt that they will exploit it if they can."

"Aye, my thane," Lydia whispered, unsettled by Bryn's agitation and the steel in her voice.

As she began pulling off her armor Bryn scoffed, "She said the Blades' duty was to guide and protect the Dragonborn. Protect me from _what_, pray tell? All she wants is to use me for whatever game she is playing. I could see the greed in her eyes as I took Sahloknir's soul." She threw the scorched leather on the floor. "Now she wants me to sneak into the Thalmor Embassy. She wants me to be a spy, of all things! I told her she can damn well wait. I have business to attend to. She gave me the Horn, and in the morning we'll take it back to the Graybeards. At least _they_ don't lead me to believe they have an ulterior motive."

"Yes, my thane."

Bryn dropped into a chair in front of the fire and began to serve herself the savory stew that Lydia had warming there. "I was thinking about taking Farkas along as well, if he wants to go. He said he's always wanted to see the Greybeards, so now is his chance." She blew on the spoonful of stew then put it in her mouth. As the warmth of the stew and the fire seeped into her she felt her anger calming, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath in an effort to force the rest of it away.

"My thane…Bryn…" The other woman's eyes opened lazily and Lydia suppressed a shudder as they glittered in the firelight, serpent-like. "Are you all right?" Bryn stared at her for a moment then sighed and began poking at her stew. Relieved, Lydia set the pack down and knelt at her lady's side. "Did something happen?"

"I breathed fire," Bryn murmured. "I took Sahloknir's soul and _Yol_ settled in me, and I Shouted fire." She snorted a bitter laugh. "I suppose it was a good thing Delphine wasn't in the way." She scooped up the stew and blew on it. "I'm a real fire-breathing dragon now, Lydia. Isn't that wonderful."

"Oh Bryn," Lydia whispered, hearing the catch in the other woman's voice. She grabbed Bryn's arm and squeezed it. Lydia found it wondrous, but it was clear that her mistress did not. If only Bryn had been raised as a Nord and understood how magnificent her nature was!

"Will I even be a person when all this is over?" she asked brokenly. "Will I still be a woman? Will any man want me when this is done, if it ever is? And will I even still want a husband and children by then?"

"Of course, how can you say—"

"I can feel it in me now, Lydia," Bryn said in a shaking voice. "The edge that wasn't there before. The ambition. The entire way home all I could wonder was if this was how it started for Tiber Septim. If I could actually end up doing the things he did. If I stop the dragons, what then? Where does it end? Will I be satisfied to leave it at that? If I keep going the way I am…I could unify Skyrim. I could throw out the Thalmor, no, I could destroy them, and the Aldmeri Dominion. Tiber Septim was Dragonborn, but he didn't have dragon souls to feed on. What if that is why I was born, to do this? I'm half-human, half-Altmer, and maybe there's a reason for that, and a reason why a half-breed like me is Dragonborn. That was all I could think about, the whole way back, over and over. The wheels never stopped turning, and I just kept getting angrier, and angrier. I kept hoping for another dragon to appear on the way back, or even a damn pack of wolves, anything to let me vent, let me destroy something."

Lydia stated in the strongest voice she could muster, "All you'll be destroying tonight is that bowl of stew. You'd better get to it before it gets cold."

Bryn stared into the fire for a moment before whispering, "I do love you so, Lydia. You always know the right thing to say."

Touched, she answered, "I was born to serve you, my lady. One half-breed to another." She gave Bryn's arm another squeeze then stood to take the pack to the back room and stow away the scales and bones then secure the Horn a little better. She heard the scrape of the spoon on the bowl, reassuring her, so she set to restocking and preparing their gear to set out in the morning while water warmed over the fire for Bryn to wash with. She regretted the lack of a proper bath, but maybe one day when they had enough extra coin they could add onto Breezehome.

An hour later Bryn's stomach was full of stew, bread, mead and a sweetroll, her body washed and put into a fresh clean sleeping gown and tucked into bed, snug and cozy under the furs and blankets. Lydia closed the door to the bedroom quietly, hearing the telltale deep breathing that told her Bryn was out cold, exhausted. She hoped her mistress stayed that way long enough for Lydia to run up to Jorrvaskr and beg for help.

* * *

"She did what again?" Farkas asked in a maddeningly calm voice.

"She said she breathed fire," Lydia repeated.

"Huh. So that's what that _Yol_ was."

"I need help, Farkas," she pleaded softly. They were outside along the right wall behind Jorrvaskr and everyone else was inside, yelling and drinking and acting like fools as usual. She had to wonder if anyone had noticed them leaving other than Vilkas, whose pale, creepy eyes had followed her the entire time. She didn't doubt Farkas would tell his twin everything once she left, but frankly she didn't care as long as Farkas came along tomorrow to jolly Bryn out of her funk, and perhaps help her feel a little more human again.

Farkas nodded and agreed easily, "Sure. Not a problem. Always did want to see a Greybeard."

"She was frightening me," Lydia insisted. "I'm really worried about her." Lydia found the notion of being Dragonborn and breathing fire glorious, but it clearly was troubling Bryn deeply. Bryn hadn't been raised with Nord traditions and felt like a freak instead of the hero she was, or would end up being.

"Hey, don't worry. Nothing much frightens me. Well, frostbite spiders a little, maybe…creepy buggers…"

Lydia waited a few moments, and when it seemed he wasn't going to come out of it on his own she slapped him on the shoulder. His eyes focused and he smiled at her, and she returned the smile and said, "She'll come by here tomorrow morning and ask you to go with her. Try to act surprised without overdoing it, okay?"

"Sure. Not a problem," he repeated.

"Thank you. I appreciate it. It's not that I can't handle her, mind you. It's just that you seem to be one of the few people who can make her laugh and forget herself for a while. I'm not exactly a barrel of fun."

Farkas wiggled his eyebrows at her and murmured, "Well, I don't know about that."

Lydia laughed and slapped him on the shoulder again. "See, that's what I'm talking about." She spun on her heel and walked away, feeling much better. "See you tomorrow, big fella."

"Hey, maybe we could share a bedroll, eh?"

She laughed again and turned to look at him. "Maybe some other time. I wouldn't want to traumatize my thane."

"Yeah, that whole virgin thing. Why don't you just take her somewhere and get it out of the way?"

"Sweet Dibella, she would be mortified," Lydia said with mock horror. "She has somewhat delicate sensibilities, if you haven't noticed."

"Yeah. Well, I tried to do it and we just couldn't get it to work. Too gooda friends and all that. No spark there."

Her eyebrows shot up in shock. "Really! She never told me that."

"She's good at keeping secrets I guess."

"Unlike you."

Farkas laughed, "Hey, I know all sorts of things about her you don't."

"If you mean her crush on your brother, you'd be mistaken."

Farkas rolled his eyes. "Like anyone can't see that. I told her it can't ever go anywhere. She knows that, but I guess you can't help who you love. Or something I heard like that." He'd never been in love himself, though he thought that the affection he felt for Bryn was a platonic version of that. From what he'd seen of people falling in love, it made you feel kind of sick, and he wasn't into that.

"Well, she's told me more than once that she wants that blond family of her dreams, and if I have my way she'll get it."

"You usually get your way."

"That I do."

She touched her fingers to her forehead in a salute then sauntered away. Farkas watched her hips sway under her armor as she walked, and he said to himself, "Damn fine looking woman."

"Heard that," she called back without stopping or turning around.

He chuckled to himself and headed back to the doors, and he felt aggravated to see his brother standing on the porch, his arms folded. He frowned at him and said, "Going to start lurking in shadows now? Got tired of just brooding?"

"I wanted some fresh air," Vilkas replied in annoyance.

"You're the worst liar I've ever seen."

"I can do what I want, oaf."

"I hope to hell you weren't eavesdropping."

"You were just having a tryst with Lydia, weren't you, so what would there be to eavesdrop on other than a lot of grunting?" He knew they weren't out here fooling around, Lydia's expression when she came for Farkas too serious for that. He had to wonder though how Bryn would take Farkas diddling her housecarl.

Farkas said in disgust, "You're a real shit sometimes, Vilkas. Besides, my trysts last a lot longer than five minutes, which is more than I can say for you." His brother made a sputtering sound of offense, and he went on, "I was talking to her about Bryn, if you need to know so bad that you followed me out here."

"I did _not_ follow you out here. I came out just as she was leaving."

"I'm going with them in the morning to see the Greybeards. Bryn got the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller back and she came home tonight all weird and angry, talking about breathing fire and toppling empires." Vilkas' anger faded as he frowned, unsettled. "Yeah, I don't like the sound of that. Lydia's worried about her and asked if I would go with them to keep Bryn's spirits up."

"And Lydia's pants down?"

Farkas stared coldly at him for a few seconds then said, "You need to get out more. As in you need to go get laid somewhere. You're starting up again."

Vilkas rubbed his hands over his face and muttered, "Argh, you're right. You're right. Sorry."

"Seriously, when was the last time you left Whiterun?"

"I don't know." He let his hands fall. "I'm afraid if I do that I'll run into something that will force me to change."

"Maybe," Farkas admitted. "It happened to me in front of Bryn. How do you think that made me feel? Or her? She was terrified, of me. _Me_. She thinks I'm some kind of big cuddly bear and then that happens, and it was messy, real messy."

"It seems she got over it well and quickly enough." Big cuddly bear. How sickeningly sweet.

"Probably only because it was me." Vilkas didn't reply, staring at his brother as he chewed on his bottom lip, as if he wanted to say something. "What?"

"Are you…ugh, never mind."

"Am I what?"

"I said never mind!"

Farkas looked at him with his tongue in his cheek, then he said, "All right, you're coming with me tomorrow."

Vilkas replied in dread, "No I am not. I am most certainly not." It would be intolerable to see Farkas and Bryn together. To see Bryn constantly. Smell her constantly. The woman's very presence was a constant irritant.

"Yes, you are. We always said we would climb the Steps together. I'm not going without you."

"You were ready to a few minutes ago." He turned away to go inside. "Who knows, maybe you can get both of them in the bedroll—" He heard a growl of anger a split second before he was tackled from behind. The breath was knocked out of him as they hit the cobblestones, neither of them wearing armor, and he felt his right cheekbone hit the ground painfully before he could catch himself. He swung back an elbow and caught Farkas in the ribs then threw him off, and both men sprang to their feet, panting and glaring at each other. "What the fuck was that for!" Vilkas shouted furiously.

"I'm sick of your bullshit!" Farkas barked. "You don't talk like that, damn it!"

He sneered, "Like what? Afraid your half-breed lover will find out about your other half-breed lover—" Farkas roared and punched him in the jaw, and Vilkas staggered for a moment then threw himself at his brother, sending a table and chairs over.

They hammered on each other and rolled around for several minutes before Farkas could get Vilkas off him. His twin was snarling like an animal, his pale eyes dilated and his skin bristling with dark hairs that erupted then retracted again. Farkas could tell he was only seconds away from a full change, and with all the noise they'd made it was a wonder no one had come running yet. Farkas backed away and Vilkas came towards him, breathing heavily, his teeth bared.

"You can't have your sweetroll and eat it too," Vilkas growled, "and neither can she!"

"She isn't my lover, you stupid son of a bitch!" Farkas yelled in disbelief. "Either one of them! Is that what all this is about?"

"Don't lie to me, idiot! Do you think I'm blind?"

"Yeah I do." Vilkas lunged for him but Farkas spun out of the way, his anger seeping out of him as Vilkas' seemed to grow. "Knock it off, damn it!"

"I don't like being played for a fool! I'm sick of her making eyes at me while she's fucking you!"

"No one's playing you, or anyone else. I've never slept with Bryn, ever, and I haven't touched Lydia in months."

Vilkas stopped his advance, still breathing heavily. "I don't believe you."

"I'll never sleep with Bryn. I can't. I just don't feel that way about her, no matter how much I'd like to."

"She spent the night in your bed," he insisted.

Farkas frowned in confusion. "When?"

"The first night she was here, dummy!"

"All we did was talk. Well, she did most of the talking. And all the crying. I kind of patted her back the way Jergen used to when we were little, and she fell asleep in my bed. I put her in one of the spare beds not ten minutes later." He narrowed his eyes at his twin before moving to pick up the mess they'd made. "And it pisses me off that you think I would take advantage of a drunk girl. Or lie to you. I've never lied to you, asshole. It pisses me off that you think I would lie. I've never lied to anyone in my life." Vilkas took a deep breath and looked away, drained and guilty, then he lowered his eyes and joined his brother in picking up the displaced furniture and broken dishes. Farkas went on, "You almost changed. You need to get out."

"Yes, I know."

"You're coming with me tomorrow." Vilkas didn't respond. Farkas insisted, "You're coming with me, damn it."

"I don't want to."

"Too bad." Vilkas grumbled. "We always said we would climb the Steps together, and we never thought we would get to see the Greybeards. Well now we can, and this might be our only chance, so we're going, together."

"It isn't only the two of us." It would be the two women too. It would feel too much like an extended double date. The thought made him feel ill. In fact now he just felt ill in general, his body flooded with stress hormones that had no outlet, frustrated by the near change.

"So what? Bryn's nice, and Lydia's easy to be around."

"I'm not either of those things."

"Then keep your smart mouth shut the whole time and don't glare at anyone. Easy enough."

"It is _not_ easy. Nothing is easy anymore."

Farkas sighed, feeling sorry for his twin. "Yeah, I know. Look at the bright side, maybe we'll run into a dragon."

"Sure." He doubted they would, but he would be stuck travelling with a dragon in the form of a girl instead. _Breathing fire and toppling empires…_ He didn't want to see Bryn breathe fire, or Shout fire, more accurately. The thought of seeing her in action as Dragonborn was rather unsettling, and the thought of sleeping in close proximity to her for however long this took was even worse. He would hear her breathing nearby. Maybe smell her as they walked, with that hint of lavender that was always about her. It would drive him mad. He hated the smell of lavender now. _Hated_ it.

Farkas put his arm around his brother's shoulders and gave him a shake. "Come on, don't be so squirrely."

"You mean surly."

"Whatever. Bryn's a sweet girl. It's not like she's going to come on to you."

"She already did once."

"She was drunk. Everyone gets a pass when they're drunk. So she has a little crush on you, big deal. It'll go away eventually, just like Ria's and Njada's did. Besides, you aren't even what she's after. She's told me and Lydia and Adrianne and who knows who else that she came to Skyrim to find a blond husband to give her cute blond babies."

"Is that so."

"Not sure if you've looked in a mirror lately, but you aren't blond."

"No shit."

Seeing that he wasn't improving his brother's mood any, Farkas gave him another shake and pulled him towards the doors. "Let's go swig a healing potion so the girls don't see us all beat up in the morning."

Vilkas grunted and went along, and when they went inside Tilma shook her broom at them and chided, "I hope you two cleaned up after yourselves."

"Yes ma'am," they said obediently.

"All right then. Good night."

No one else seemed to notice their developing bruises or their messy clothes, or if they did, they didn't care. It wasn't as if the twins hadn't brawled all the time when they were younger, though it had been a long time. At nearly thirty-eight they were way too old to be acting like this, and it made Vilkas burn with shame. He was the one who started it. He always had been. He wasn't even sure now why he had started it this time, why he had gone outside in the first place. Bryn's business was not his, though it wasn't as if he had no concern for her well-being, as a Shield-Sister. Everyone had been concerned when Lydia had come back without her, and Lydia wouldn't say where she was or what she was doing, and she had been gone for days, and it had been rather worrisome and mysterious when Lydia had come into Jorrvaskr alone tonight and whispered in Farkas' ear. Bryn couldn't have been dead or Lydia would have told everyone, would have looked shaken up. Vilkas hadn't been able to help getting up and going outside, and he felt like an idiot for it. He felt like an idiot for saying things to his brother that were inexcusable no matter if Farkas were sleeping with her or not. Maybe he had even subconsciously said those things to spur Farkas into admitting it, knowing he didn't have the courage to ask on his own. He almost had though. And when Farkas had stated quite clearly that Bryn wasn't his, it had sent relief mixed with anxiety through him. And then _you aren't even what she's after_…

As he crawled under the blankets that phrase kept echoing through his head in his brother's voice: _you aren't even what she's after_. If she was after such a thing, why was she here in Whiterun, doing jobs for the Companions and following her own path, which left no time for a husband and children, blond or otherwise? He had seen her talking to Jon Battle-Born at various points in time in town, and she had shown no interest in him, handsome as he was, or in the equally handsome Bard Mikael, in fact she seemed to detest Mikael, which wasn't hard to do. Jon was laidback and pleasant, finding the clan rivalry ridiculous, but then it was growing apparent that he and Olfina Gray-Mane were carrying on a not-so-secret affair. Bryn didn't seem attracted to any of the guards either. In fact the only man she really seemed attracted to was Vilkas himself. In hindsight, he didn't see any kind of carnal affection between Farkas and Bryn, maybe only the affection of a close brother and sister.

He tossed and turned for nearly two hours, frustrated and exhausted to the point of considering getting up and going through the Underforge to the plains and changing so he could run and hunt it all out of him. Bryn didn't belong to Farkas, or anyone, so Vilkas had nothing more than his own sense of propriety to keep him away from her. He wasn't so delusional that he couldn't finally admit he was strongly attracted to her. He had never been attracted to a Shield-Sister before and so he had never been tempted, but now that he knew she wasn't his brother's woman he couldn't stop thinking about it. He wasn't even what she was looking for in something permanent, and he wasn't interested in anything permanent with anyone, ever, so perhaps it wouldn't be an issue if they simply took a roll in the furs and got it over with. He would scratch an itch, let out some tension, and it would cure her infatuation, since women invariably found him distasteful afterward.

Feeling calm settle over him, Vilkas rolled over and fell asleep, feeling a sense of peace for the first time since the girl had shown up in Whiterun.


	9. Chapter 9

"Great," Lydia drawled as Vilkas followed his brother out Jorrvaskr's front doors, outfitted for the road. Bryn didn't seem to hear her, her golden eyes gazing up at Vilkas with poorly hidden regard, and when Vilkas returned that gaze with an uncharacteristically warm smile Lydia felt her blood boil. Bryn blushed and looked away, and it was all Lydia could do not to say something snide to the man. She wasn't sure what he was up to, or why his attitude had suddenly changed, but she didn't like it one bit.

The twins came down the steps and Farkas said to Bryn, "I hope you don't mind if Vilkas tags along. We always said we would climb the Steps together."

The girl shook her head and said, "Oh no. I mean, that's fine. I understand. This…this will be fun."

Lydia glared at Vilkas and the tall man gazed back with a smirk, one eyebrow raised. She slowly shook her head at him and he put on an expression of innocence, but she wasn't fooled. This was wrong, just wrong, on some level she couldn't quite grasp yet, but she was going to be on him like stink on a troll every minute of this trip.

* * *

"Long has the Stormcrown languished with no worthy brow to sit upon. By our breath we bestow it now to you in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of old. You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North. Hearken to it."

"Ysmir's beard," Vilkas whispered, feeling a shiver run through him even though he was warm between Farkas and Lydia on the bench near the doors where they had been banished to. The entire mountaintop had trembled as the Greybeards had spoken to Bryn, and the three of them had had to clap their hands over their ears to tolerate it, but Bryn had barely reacted to the onslaught, stumbling only slightly before regaining her poise. Vilkas didn't doubt the Greybeards' warning to the three of them that anyone but the Dragonborn standing at the center of that would suffer grievous harm, if not death. Well by Talos, she really was the Dragonborn. He didn't think it had really hit him until now.

"Ysmir has no beard this time," Lydia murmured as she stood, "and you will damn well give her the respect she deserves, Companion."

Vilkas bit his tongue, not about to get into an argument in one of the holiest places in Tamriel, certainly the holiest place in Skyrim. Even Farkas knew better than to say a word here. He was tiring however of Lydia's constant vigilance and dirty looks. As if he would try anything with the other two around! He dismissed the woman from his mind and watched and listened intently as Bryn spoke to the Greybeards' leader, still glad he had come on this journey. It was momentous, what he was witnessing, and as long as he lived he would not forget it.

"Why are the dragons returning?" Bryn asked. "Is it because of me? Or was I born because the dragons were about to return?"

"No doubt the appearance of a Dragonborn at this time is not an accident," Arngeir stated. "Your destiny is surely bound up with the return of the dragons. But as to which is the cause and which the effect, it is impossible at this time to say. Akatosh himself brought about your birth, and it is not difficult to imagine that he did so with foresight, knowing the dragons were about to reappear. The Dragonborn always enter the world at a critical juncture."

"What do I do next, Master?"

"You should focus on honing your Voice, and soon your path will be made clear."

Bryn listened respectfully, trying to be patient with their measured training, trusting that at least Arngeir and the Greybeards in general had no ill intent or ulterior motives. The Greybeards were removed from the world, deliberately so, and so had no reason to play games or care about politics. Bryn thought that perhaps it was Delphine's manner that had irritated her more than anything, the older woman brusque and too intense, but Bryn still couldn't bring herself to trust her whole-heartedly. The Greybeards she did. They were concerned for her and her alone, simply because she was Dragonborn. If they thought it best to grow her Voice slowly, by roaming Skyrim and finding word walls, then she would. She still hadn't seen the vast majority of this cold but magnificent country.

She returned to the others, the two men standing as she approached, and when Lydia handed over her pack she pulled out her journal to write down the location Arngeir had given her. Lydia softly said, "Mount Anthor then, my thane?" It didn't seem right to raise one's voice in this place.

"Yes, but I'm not really sure where that is. I should have asked Master Arngeir to mark my map."

Vilkas held his hand out, saying, "Here, I know where it is." Bryn hesitated then handed over the map and pencil, and when their fingers brushed he saw Lydia's fists clench out of the corner of his eye. The housecarl certainly wasn't going to make this easy, though it might be amusing in the meantime. "It is high in the mountains, southwest of Winterhold. It may be easiest to take a carriage to the city, what little remains of it, then travel from there. It is brutal country up there, even for Nords, so dress warmly." He saw Lydia relax slightly as she realized he wasn't going to try to go with them. He would find his own place and time, when Bryn's business wasn't quite so urgent. It wasn't as if he didn't grasp the importance of what she was doing, and he had a newfound respect for her after witnessing her courteous interactions with the Greybeards and how gravely she took her responsibilities. Bryn wasn't a child, was in fact a bit older than Lydia herself, and it was none of Lydia's business who Bryn associated with. It was almost as if the woman was trying to protect Bryn from him, which was laughable. If he tried to bed her and she was agreeable to it, it was really not Lydia's concern at all, and it aggravated him that she was trying to make it hers. Lydia was a Nord and should understand how these things worked.

Bryn took back the map and pencil, avoiding his touch this time, trying desperately not to blush, which she did much too easily. "I was going to stop for a bit in Ivarstead first," she stated. "Last time Lydia and I came through here, Wilhelm, the proprietor of the Vilemyr Inn, said there was some problem with the barrow outside town. I should look into it for him while I'm there."

"What kind of problem?" Farkas asked.

"A haunting. He said he had seen a spirit wandering about the mound. Someone named Wyndelius went in there about a year ago. The townfolk heard screams the next night and he never came back out."

Farkas grimaced. "I don't like those kinds of places. Dark and creepy. Probably spiders in there too. Leave me out of it."

Vilkas casually offered, "I wouldn't mind taking a look at it with you." Bryn looked at him with wide eyes, surprised. Hopeful. _Yes_.

"My thane," Lydia quickly interjected.

"It's been some time since I've seen any action." She smiled at him, her eyes bright and cheeks pink. He returned the smile. Action indeed.

"My thane!" Lydia protested in a panic, seeing exactly where this was going and not missing Vilkas' double meaning. Vile man! He was eyeing sweet, innocent Bryn like a predator. "We should go to Mount Anthor, as Master Arngeir suggested."

"The word wall isn't going anywhere, Lydia," Bryn stated, tearing her eyes away from the intense gray gaze, framed so enticingly by black warpaint. Vilkas actually wanted to go on a mission with her. Actually seemed interested in her. She wasn't sure what had changed, but it had. She wasn't so naive that she couldn't tell that. She also wasn't so naive that she couldn't see Lydia's deep concern over Vilkas' behavior. She wasn't stupid or a child. It was as if Lydia was afraid for her, and it borderline angered her that her housecarl, her best friend other than Farkas, was trying to shelter her from something she should have experienced a good ten years ago. The longer she waited the harder it would be, and if it had to be anyone she wanted it to be Vilkas. She didn't expect flowers and romance. She just wanted him, any way she could have him.

Lydia felt a horrible foreboding fall over her as she met Bryn's gaze. Yes, Bryn knew what she was doing. She knew it might not even be good for her and yet was doing it anyway. Just like always. She quietly said, keeping her voice even with an effort, "Yes, my thane. Farkas and I will return to Whiterun, and I'll await you there." Bryn smiled brightly at her, her golden eyes shining, and the look was so innocent and childlike it broke Lydia's heart. She returned the smile, trying not to give in to tears, savoring that look, wondering if she would ever see it again.

* * *

Vilkas warmed his hands over one of the braziers near the entrance to Shroud Hearth Barrow as Bryn readied her gear. He quietly said, "I am with Farkas on this one. I've never liked these places." They made his skin crawl, frankly, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

"I've gotten used to them," Bryn replied as she sorted out her arrows. She was using mostly steel-tipped these days but kept a bundle of iron ones as backup, and of course she always seemed to find more ancient Nord arrows on the draugr. "I suppose I even like them, in a way. They're quiet, and I don't feel like something is going to spring on me from behind or the sides, as in the wilds. I can take the crypt at my own pace and think about what I'm doing before I do it."

"Huh. I could see why that would be." He hesitated then added, "Perhaps it is only because of what Farkas and I experienced as children that makes us dislike underground places."

"Most likely." She sighed sadly. "I think about it sometimes, when I'm talking to Farkas, wondering who he would be now if he hadn't gotten hurt like that. Then I look at how happy he is most of the time, how everyone loves him. What happened to you both was terrible, but I think it was worse for you, seeing and remembering it. Except for his episodes he doesn't seem any worse for it."

"Of that there is no doubt," he murmured. "My brother is a simple man, but a good man, the best I know." It was surprisingly painful yet touching to hear her talk about it like this. Everyone had always shied away from the subject, never wanting to talk about it, even when he was a child and pestered all the adults around him with endless questions on it. Jergen had refused to talk about it at all, seeming to find the subject unbearable. Vilkas still resented the man deeply for leaving. Jergen had taken good enough care of the twins, but there had never been a strong connection there between him and Vilkas, not like there had been between Jergen and Farkas. Farkas had never questioned that the man was their father, though no one had ever said he was. They'd never said he wasn't either, and Vilkas had asked. Every adult's answer had boiled down to _Whether he is or not, he saved your life and brought you here for raising, and that is enough_. Well it wasn't enough. It never had been.

As she took out her bow and strung it, still avoiding his gaze, she went on, "He's the most decent man I've ever met. I always wanted a brother, and he always wanted a sister, and…it all worked out. Well, I suppose I had a brother growing up. Yancarro and I were only a few years apart in age, and we were raised as siblings, but then your sibling shouldn't want to murder you." Vilkas made a grumbling sound of distaste. "Well, now I want to murder him, so I suppose we're even. He'll get what's coming to him eventually, either at my hand or by choking on his own poison when he hears that I'm still alive, and Dragonborn at that. I think that would be more satisfying, letting him wallow for the next several centuries in the knowledge that I became a hero that comes along once in an era. It's part of why I do what I do, other than the pleasure of helping people. Everyone in Skyrim will know my name, and eventually everyone in Tamriel, and it will be because of what he did to me."

"That…is certainly one way of looking at it." He had been dismayed to hear her talk of murdering her cousin, but then he knew she didn't have it in her to do so. Hopefully she never would.

Bryn put her bow over her shoulder and looked at him, and he met her gaze evenly, unafraid. She gave him a brief smile and said, "Shall we?"

"Aye."

Vilkas shivered as they went down the spiral wooden staircase, feeling a cold draft rising past him that caused an eerie moaning sound. Bryn led, seeming unconcerned, her feet light on the stairs with hardly a sound. At the base she pocketed a soul gem then moved down the hall. He followed as quietly as possible, feeling like a clumsy oaf as his armor clanked softly and boots rang on the stone floor, while Bryn slipped along like a shadow, silent in her leather boots and armor. He wasn't comfortable here, not like he was out in the open, every sound he made magnified by the stone walls. He watched as she deftly plucked gold from the mummified bodies in their niches or gems and rings from urns where the remains had long ago deteriorated into nothing but a film of dust. She seemed to have a knack for finding these little riches, and he could see how they would quickly add up.

They reached an area where the tunnels branched off, and Bryn jumped as a ghostly apparition appeared to her right. She saw Vilkas quickly draw his sword, but the specter stayed on the other side of the gate.

"Leave this place," it moaned. "Leave this place. Leave…leave…_leave_…" It turned and drifted away out of sight.

"What the hell," Vilkas muttered. Gods, he hated this place already. Getting laid hardly seemed worth it now. "Have you seen one of those before?"

"No, never," she whispered. "I wonder if that was the ghost Wilhelm saw?"

Vilkas watched in bemusement as she shrugged and turned away from the gate and inspected the draugr standing at attention. He could tell as well as she could that they were truly dead, their clothing and armor having rotted away completely without undead magic to sustain them.

"Wow, look at these," she breathed, holding out three gleaming reddish-gold arrows to Vilkas. "Aren't they beautiful? I've never seen anything like them!"

"Dwemer arrows," he said with a nod. "You would do well to save those. They're somewhat rare." Her expression shone as she slid the shafts into one of the divisions of her quiver. It was charming how happy the small find made her.

They went into a small alcove to find the switch for the gate, and instead found four. Bryn examined the walls and saw a series of small holes. "Darts," she stated.

"And poisoned, most likely."

"Yes."

"Stand out there and I'll start throwing switches." She looked at him with worry, and he assured her, "Look at the angle of the holes. I'll throw the switches from here by the entry, out of the way." She nodded and did as he suggested, and within a few seconds he found the combination that opened all the gates, indeed tripping the dart trap in the process, though none of them came near. He looked around the alcove for anything useful before leaving, and found an interesting book with a rich leather cover, _Before the Ages of Man_. He flipped through it and found mention of Ysgramor, and made a sound of interest and stuck it in his pack.

They paused in the next hallway long enough for Bryn to pick a lock, nimbly jump over a pressure plate then disarm a chest trap, causing Vilkas to say with mixed amusement and disapproval, "Quite the thief, aren't you." He'd had no idea she knew how to pick locks. Between that skill and her sneakiness she could have a rather lucrative career if she knew the right, or wrong, people. He hoped she stayed away from Riften.

"I only steal from the dead, I assure you. They'll never miss it."

"I suppose."

She threw open the chest then cried, "Eleven gold? That's it?" She heard Vilkas laugh as she pocketed the disappointing amount of loot, ignoring the battered hide shield in the chest; it wasn't even magical. She looked around the room, sure there was more hidden away somewhere, but other than a few more gold on the dead draugr standing by there wasn't.

"Really, are you not wealthy enough as it is?"

"No, I'm not. I want to buy a horse. Two, actually; one for me, one for Lydia." Horses cost a shocking amount, and she had sunk nearly her entire savings into Breezehome. It still needed work, especially the roof which could use thatching and some new shingles. She hadn't really thought past buying the house and hadn't taken its upkeep into consideration other than making sure she gave Lydia all her spare coin to keep them both fed and warm.

Vilkas frowned as she jumped out over the trap. "What for?"

"I get tired of walking everywhere."

He shook his head and warned, "Leave horses to the poncy nobles who don't like getting their feet dirty. They are a liability. You'll grow soft riding, and the horse won't last long, the places you go. A horse can defend itself from a wolf or two, but leave it outside a cave or crypt and you'll come out to find your ride half-eaten, and a thousand gold in the privy."

"Oh. I hadn't considered that. In Cyrodiil everyone rides horses everywhere."

"This is not Cyrodiil." She stared at him, and he muttered wryly, "Which I suppose goes without saying." She laughed quietly then continued down the hall.

They avoided a spike trap then came to an area with two doors. Bryn noticed another trigger trap and quickly disarmed it then opened the door. Water dripped from the ceiling in this area, and she opened the next door, seeing a long gallery with a puzzle door at the end. She turned back and said, "The door needs a dragon claw to open it. We might find it later on." He nodded and they continued through the other door.

Bryn heard the crackling of a fire and held up her hand, and she sneaked forward on her own to see what it was, as it didn't sound like the usual lit braziers. She was shocked to see the ghost from earlier sleeping on a bedroll to the side of a small fireplace. She crept closer and saw an entire small household set up: an alchemy table, books, food, some potions. She slipped back to Vilkas and whispered her findings to him, and he whispered back, "Ghosts need none of those things. They don't need sleep or warm fires either, as far as I'm aware." Something smelled rotten here, and it wasn't just the draugr. "Toss a pebble at it and see what happens, but be ready."

It quickly became apparent that their ghost was not a spirit at all; between the two of them the fight was over quickly and the ethereal appearance instantly was dispelled. Vilkas rolled the Dunmer over in the hallway he'd backed them into and searched him while Bryn healed herself. He was startled for only a moment by the glow, having seen her do it early on after training sessions. He had to admit it would be a handy skill to have.

"Nothing," he finally said as he stood. "Let's check his little hideaway. What do you want to bet he's that Wyndelius person Wilhelm mentioned?"

"Probably."

They returned to the small room and found the man's journal on a desk. Bryn felt her heart trip expectantly as Vilkas moved behind her to look over her shoulder and read at the same time. "He doesn't have the claw," she said in disappointment.

"So it would appear."

The deep voice in her ear made her shiver, and as she snapped the journal shut she said, "We ah, we should take this back to Wilhelm. At least the townsfolk will know the barrow isn't haunted."

"Aye." He moved away from her to give her space, though her trembling had excited him to the point of nearly bending her over the desk right then and there. Unfortunately he was in no condition at the moment to partake, having taken the brunt of several fire and ice spells.

Bryn glanced at Vilkas to see him grimace and take off his pack to begin looking through it for a potion, kneeling on the fur rug. "I…um, I've learned a spell to heal others. It could save you the potion."

"That would be appreciated. We aren't done here yet, and I have the feeling that whatever is behind that puzzle door is much worse than one deluded Dunmer." The notion didn't bother him, having gone for healing many times in the temple of Kynareth. Each time he did though he feared that somehow the priests would sense his nature. Bryn was well aware of it though. And yet even after finding out, the way she looked at him hadn't changed.

"Yes, um, all right."

Vilkas continued looking through his pack for his canteen, and when he got it out he looked up to see Bryn still standing nearby, staring at him with huge eyes, her body stiff as a board. He frowned and asked in confusion, "What is the matter?" He took a drink of water and saw her shake her head as she swallowed nervously.

"N-nothing." She felt sick with nerves and squeezed her eyes shut, feeling like an ass. It wasn't as if he was going to take her right here. She shouldn't be afraid of simply touching him, especially for the act of healing alone.

Bewildered, Vilkas rose to his feet and her eyes shot open, and she stared at him like a frightened deer. "What is the problem?" he asked. She didn't answer, and he saw the pulse leaping in the hollow of her throat. Her eyes were dilated though, and he knew what that meant. The girl was nervous, that was all. Best to get it out of the way so they could focus. He said in a nonchalant tone, "You need to touch skin to heal, don't you?"

"Well, yes, for now, but…" Bryn blinked owlishly as Vilkas began slowly stripping off his armor. He smiled slyly at her and she realized in shock that he really did intend to do it here. In a crypt. With a dead man not thirty feet away in the hall. She opened her mouth to stop him but nothing came out, and she snapped it shut again as he stopped at his clothing. If she didn't do it now, she might never do it, and probably never with him, and she couldn't risk that. She couldn't risk him finding out she was a virgin, though she was certainly acting like one, not that she knew any other way to act. He moved closer to her and she held her ground with an effort, unable to meet his eyes.

Vilkas took her right hand and she shivered, and when he placed it in the opening of his shirt against his chest she let out a tiny peep that made him chuckle. "What's wrong, little mouse?" he murmured. "Afraid I will pounce on you?" She didn't answer, staring at his chest, and he could feel her pulse racing in her wrist. He reached up with his other hand and pulled off her helmet, and he smelled a waft of lavender from her cornsilk hair as he tossed the helmet on the ground. He pulled her against him and put his nose into her hair, feeling her trembling like a bird in the hand. His free hand came up to the small of her back and pressed her against him, the feel of leather enticing and frustrating all at once. Her other hand was balled up between them, her entire body thrumming with tension. If he hadn't known better, if he couldn't smell her arousal so strongly, he would think she was afraid, which was laughable in a woman her age. He said with amusement, "So maidenly. Do you think I'll tear you apart because I am a werewolf? I will be slow and gentle if you want. You needn't fear me any more than you do my brother." He felt her nod and some of the stiffness in her eased, affirming what he had guessed, that she didn't quite trust him or his nature. Well, he would give her no cause for complaint. He never did, but somehow things always turned bad right after he finished. He nuzzled near her ear and whispered, "Heal me, so that I may do right by you."

Bryn shuddered and pressed her hand against his chest as she melted against him, laying her head on his shoulder, and as the magic began to flow she heard him sigh and let go of her wrist to put his other hand against the back of her head.

"Ah, no potion could feel as good as that." All potions were foul-tasting to some extent, even if only in aftertaste, but healing magic felt like a warm blanket and a cool bottle of mead all at once. The glow faded, and he felt the first tentative movement of her hand across his chest, as if she were feeling his chest hair, then he felt the slightest touch of her nose against his neck and her breath on his skin as she smelled him. Encouraged, he began slowly searching for the buckles that held together her leather armor, doing as he promised so as not to frighten her off, though it took supreme willpower to continue that course of action when he felt the hand between them slowly slide down then up inside his doublet.

Vilkas was careful every step of the way, enjoying the slow blossoming of the girl's arousal as he stripped her then worshipped every inch of her pale, creamy body with painstaking attention, until finally she was pulling him up by the hair and pleading tearfully for him to take her. He had never experienced such a thing and it drove him wild, and when she arched against him and whimpered as he slowly entered her it made it nearly impossible to continue without losing it.

The slow, deep movement inside her was more than Bryn could stand. The searing pain was still there but quickly subsiding to a dull ache. His body was warm on top of hers, his breath sweet against her cheek, and she wound her arms around his neck as he began kissing her again. The movement was too slow though, driving her mad, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed, whispering against his mouth, "More! Faster!" He slammed into her, making her cry out as her eyes flew open, and she saw his pale gray ones in front of her, intense and searching, all the more intense with the black warpaint all around. He lifted away from her and began thrusting deep, holding her gaze, and when she couldn't take it any longer she squeezed her eyes shut. She felt him against her again and a mouth on her nipple, drawing hard, and she couldn't help almost screaming from the blissful sensations. When he slowed down again she nearly sobbed, and when he shifted slightly then rolled to put her on top she gasped.

"Ride me, girl," he growled. She stared at him, panting, her eyes and hair wild, and he bucked his hips and began moving her. She quickly found her rhythm and began rocking on him, her hands braced against his chest. He held onto her hips and watched her as she bit her lip and closed her eyes. She was a thing of beauty in the firelight, glinting off her pale gold hair, the nipples of her small breasts as fair as the palest pink rose. He reached up to pinch one and she shuddered on him, then he began kneading the other one, and he soon started feeling the tell-tale tightening around him, her movements becoming smaller and more intense as a look of concentration passed over her face, tiny beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. She threw back her head and moaned as the orgasm pulsed around him, squeezing at him, and he growled and grabbed her by the back of the neck and rolled her onto her back again to pound into her. As he came he spared the faintest thought that it was a good thing only the dead were down here to hear her shrieking and hoped that it didn't carry through the mound to terrify the folk of Ivarstead.

Vilkas blew out a shaky breath and rubbed the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, the room too hot, and when he started to pull away he was shocked to feel Bryn's legs quickly lock around him. She stared up at him with glowing golden eyes, her cheeks pink, and when she reached up and gently stroked his cheeks and smiled shyly at him he felt his heart turn over in his chest. Her entire expression shone with pure contentment. She practically glowed with it, and with what he could only guess might possibly be love shining out of her eyes. It was over and she was holding him here, beaming at him, when she should have been subtly inching away from him and avoiding his eyes. It had been one of the most intense, moving sexual experiences he'd ever had, but it should be over and the two of them going about their business as expected. Except they weren't. He couldn't make himself pull away, and it seemed she didn't want him to. But she was supposed to want him to go away! This entire thing had hinged on that!

"Oh Vilkas," she sighed happily. "Vilkas, it was so perfect. I…oh _Vilkas_..." He gazed at her with a dumbstruck expression, and for a moment he almost looked like he was going to cry. She pulled him down for another kiss, and after hesitating for a few seconds he sighed shakily and returned her kisses. She made a sound of gratification and broke away, letting him go, and he slid off her to lie at her side on the fur rug, staring at the fire with a puzzled expression. She ignored the now burning soreness between her legs; she would heal it later, and it hadn't been as painful as Lydia had said it might be. She hadn't felt anything give way, so her maidenhead had no doubt broken long ago as it did for many girls in the normal course of things.

She stretched her arms up over her head, arching her back, and Vilkas' eyes were drawn back to her, almost as if against his will. She rolled onto her side to face him, and after a few seconds his hand slowly came up to trace the slight curve of her hip. She ran her fingers through the dark hair on his chest as her eyes traveled over his body, familiarizing herself with it, leanly muscular with more than its share of scars. She had never seen a naked man before, and she liked what she saw, though the rapidly deflating, sticky, messy thing that had given her such a good time was bizarre-looking to say the least. She hadn't really seen much of it during the act, but it had felt wonderful. She sat up on her elbow to look him in the eyes, and he didn't meet her gaze at first. He was acting odd, or at least she thought so. She wasn't really sure how men were supposed to act afterward, but then she wasn't sure how to act either. Worried, she said, "I…I appreciate…well, it was wonderful, so wonderful." It had made her childish infatuation ignite into full-fledged love, and it was all she could do not to tell him. She knew better than to go there.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said faintly. Of course she had enjoyed it. That had been patently obvious. He was glad the puzzle door was still locked so any roaming draugr didn't shuffle in here wondering what the ruckus was. He hadn't exactly been quiet either at the end. The orgasm had been so intense it had left him a little light-headed, something that hadn't happened since he was a much younger man. But then he had never bedded a Shield-Sister before. He couldn't believe he had bedded a fellow Companion. He had bedded the Dragonborn. She was supposed to get up and want to get away from him as quickly as possible. That was how it was supposed to go, and here she was putting her hand on his cheek again. Tilma was the only woman he could ever remember stroking his cheek, when he was a little boy, and he wasn't a little boy. He was Vilkas of the Companions, an esteemed member of the Circle, and women didn't stroke his cheek and gaze lovingly at him. But this one was doing it. His entire adult life he had wanted just one woman to not turn away from him, and it had to be her. Why did it have to be her!

"Oh, I did, I did," she sighed in contentment. "I could do it again and again and again." She sighed again then climbed to her feet, barely able to walk, her legs shaky. "Don't peek, I have to go." She heard a grunt of affirmation from him.

"Dibella's tits," Vilkas whispered, staring numbly at the fire. He tiredly pulled himself up into a sitting position and reached for his pack to get a drink of water. As he sipped from the canteen he heard a hiss then a muffled _ow ow ow_ from the hallway, and he glanced that way in concern when he saw the faint yellow glow of healing magic then a sigh of relief. He grimaced, feeling guilty, though he had been as gentle as he promised until the end, and even then she had been wet and eager the entire time. He stiffened and gasped as a sudden pang of horrified realization hit him and everything came together at once. Her words early on about her adoptive family's excessive sheltering. Farkas' platonic protectiveness. Lydia's angry hovering and non-verbal warnings to him when she realized what he was about. Bryn's shyness and what was now obviously fear. Her shaky walk and sounds of pain as she relieved herself. _Virgin_.

Feeling much better, Bryn returned to the little room to see Vilkas washing his groin vigorously with water and one of the Dunmer's old shirts, his back to the door, then he threw the shirt across the room with a growl and started pulling on his clothes in jerky, angry movements. Vilkas was angry. And there was only one person here to be angry with. She stood in the doorway watching him dress, feeling dread and sorrow, trying not to burst into tears. That wouldn't help his mood any, and the reason for his mood was obvious: he'd heard her sounds of pain as she relieved herself. She had tried so hard to be quiet, but the halls down here echoed terribly.

Vilkas yanked on a boot, and when he turned to look for the other one he saw her standing in the doorway, her eyes big and shiny, biting her lip like a little girl, her arms folded tightly, the evidence of their lovemaking starting to trickle down the insides of her thighs. And it had been lovemaking. He'd intended to scratch a mutual itch with a grown woman and instead had ended up tenderly making love to a complete innocent. Guilty and furious, he said through gritted teeth, "You didn't tell me. You lied by omission." She swallowed, not defending herself. Not denying it. "You…damn it, you made me deflower you in a _fucking draugr crypt!_" he bellowed. She flinched back with each word, her eyes widening.

"But…what difference does it make?"

The trembling, childish sound to her voice almost was enough to temper his rage. Almost. "You know damn well it would have made a difference, or you would have said something!"

"But…"

"No buts! You tricked me into having sex with you and I damn well don't appreciate it!"

"I don't understand," she whined, the tears spilling onto her cheeks. "It's over now and…and it was so good, I know it was good for you too and…and…"

"It doesn't matter how much I enjoyed it," he seethed, pulling his other boot on. "I never should have done it in the first place! I don't touch virgins. I have never touched virgins!"

"How do you know?" That set him back for a moment, then he growled and turned away to start strapping on his armor. She watched him with an aching heart, loving him so much it felt like someone was stabbing her in the chest and closing their hand around her throat at the same time. She didn't understand how they could both experience the same wondrous event and come out of it on opposite ends. He kept his back to her and she finally sniffed and wiped her eyes and went to sit on the cold stone chair behind the desk, feeling his seed draining onto the seat.

Once he was fully armored he turned to the doorway to look for her, and when she wasn't there he cursed softly, then a sniff caught his attention and he saw her sitting forlornly in the ancient chair, still stark naked, tears running down her face. "What are you doing?" he asked tightly. "Get dressed."

"You go ahead," she whispered. "I'll be fine. Just fine."

"Like hell I'm leaving you down here!" he exclaimed in shock. "What in Oblivion are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I'll be fine alone. I mean, I really always have been alone anyway, haven't I." Vilkas stared at her in disquiet, as she gazed into the fire with a desolate expression, her eyes unfocused. "Tell Lydia not to worry about me. I'll be home soon."

"No. I am not leaving without you."

"But you see, you aren't with me, so how can you be without me?" She drew up her feet onto the chair and hugged her legs, unable to tolerate looking at him. She had been able to manage not having him before. Before she had known what it was like. What he was like. Now it would haunt her forever… how he smelled, how he felt, his breathing, the sounds he'd made, how he tasted. He didn't move, and she laid her chin on her knees and told him, "If you hurry, you might catch up with them. Lydia and Farkas. I'll go see Wilhelm and tell him about Wyndelius, in a little bit. I'm…just going to sit here for a while." Eventually all his seed would drain out of her and it would be like it never even happened. He would ignore her when they got home and it would be as if she had dreamed the entire thing.

Vilkas swallowed the lump in his throat as she put her forehead on her knees and started to weep miserably. "Damn it girl, don't do that," he demanded guiltily. He had no idea what to do, this entire thing spiraling out of his control. Farkas would know what to do. Farkas had known she was a virgin, Vilkas was sure of it, and Farkas would be like a big protective brother when he found out what had happened. He wouldn't blame Vilkas for sleeping with the girl, or at least not too much, but he would blame his twin for leaving her alone and wretched afterward. Vilkas wasn't honestly sure what she would do if he left. He couldn't trust her state of mind at all right now. Seeing her sitting naked and sobbing in a stone chair in a burial mound with a dead body in the hallway outside was suddenly so horribly morbid he couldn't stand it. It was almost as morbid as having sex with her with the body outside in the hallway. She had been so happy afterward, too. Shining with joy, and he had pissed all over it. He had taken something that had caused her pure happiness and turned it into shit. Classic Vilkas.

He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, then he went to her side and knelt there. The smell of sex rose from her and it was all he could do not to grab a handful of her hair and yank her up and start the whole thing over again. His eyes couldn't help traveling over her, so pale and lithe, long-legged, her lanky thinness having become willowy grace under Farkas and Lydia's care, and he could barely see one tiny nipple, as delicate a pale pink as the part of her that he had spent so much time delving into. Even as she wept he couldn't help wanting her. He wanted her now a thousand times more than he had before. He knew now how she responded to his touch, the way no woman ever had, how the two of them had fit together the way he never had with any woman, and it was going to drive him completely mad now having her around. He cursed his stupidity for ever allowing this to happen, for thinking he could have a casual romp with a Shield-Sister without consequences. He had never done such a thing in all his years as a Companion, and he still wasn't entirely sure why he had now.

Vilkas finally reached up a gauntleted hand and petted her messy hair, his hand shaking slightly. "Come now, you need to get dressed," he murmured in a strained voice. "Do that and I will get you something to eat."

"I'm not hungry." Not for food, anyway. The feel of his heavy glove on her was oddly moving and more than she could stand.

"A drink of water then, and regardless you're going to get dressed. I'm not leaving you down here, or in Ivarstead, and I'm not going home without you. You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to do that."

"What do you care. Just leave me down here to rot with Wyndelius."

Vilkas shuddered in revulsion. "Absolutely not. Get up now and get dressed, or I'll pick you up and dress you like a baby." She ignored him, though her sniffling had stopped. Realizing he was getting sharp-tongued again, he let his hand fall away and said, "You really think I don't care. You think I can…do what I did, and simply not care."

"Yes."

"I overreacted, as I often do, and I apologize," he stated, his face growing warm. "I should not have yelled, or accused."

"You can't take it back."

"Yes, I know, but—"

"We'll go back to Whiterun and it'll be just like before," she said with fresh grief, raising her head to look at him. Looking at his face caused fresh tears to rise in her eyes. He was so damn handsome, so perfect, and it tore her heart out knowing he didn't love her. Couldn't love her.

"Like before?"

"Like nothing ever happened."

He sighed and looked away from her reddened eyes. "I don't think either one of us will be able to pretend that nothing happened." Not after that. His memory was too sharp to forget anything, and this entire experience was going to play itself out over and over again in his mind. It was already. Her smell and taste had imprinted itself on him, impossible to get out of his nose and mouth, and he found he didn't really want it to. The wolf in him wanted nothing more than to roll in the furs with her and rub her scent all over him. She would be more than happy to let him do so. She knew what he was and loved him anyway. But _why?_

"I won't go back to Jorrvaskr and be ignored," she stated tremulously. "I'll leave, for good this time."

"That would break the old man's heart."

"But not yours." Vilkas pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "How can we do what we did and it doesn't mean anything to you?"

"I never said it didn't. I was angry when I realized you were a maiden, that's all." _So maidenly..._ He remembered saying that to her when she was trembling shyly in his arms. What a fool he had been. He grumbled and ran his fingers back through his hair, completely at a loss, but at least she had gone quiet. He glanced at her and she was gazing at him with a heartbroken expression, her golden eyes shining in the firelight, her face so close it would take only the slightest movement to lean over and kiss her, and the sudden overpowering urge to do so was more than he could take. He stood to stop himself from doing it but didn't move away, knowing if he did she would start crying again. He didn't understand at all how she could do what she did and be what she was and also be so incredibly delicate. He suddenly felt her hand tentatively take hold of his, and when he looked down at her she was still staring at him with a needy look on her face, as if pleading for him not to go, not to leave her. Pleading for him to love her, because he damn well knew what the look on her face was. He had never seen it directed at him before, but he had seen it when lovers and spouses looked at each other. She loved him. Vilkas the Unlovable. Great Divines, he never should have touched a virgin!

"Please Vilkas…"

"What." She stood and he nearly yanked his hand away and left the room, her naked nearness and the suddenly strong grasp on his hand making a fresh surge of need go through him.

"Please, can't we just…try? To be together?" He didn't answer, his eyes dilating as he looked her over, but he didn't say no. She moved close to him, the steel plates of his armor cold against her skin. "I won't make things difficult, I promise. I won't embarrass you, I won't even let anyone know. I…I can be your little secret."

"Stop it," he whispered, hard all over again, her words and the sight of her pale, soft little breasts pressed against hard steel plate maddening. Her face was so close, the girl so tall that her head might lie nicely on his shoulder; he was tall even for a Nord, and yet she fit him perfectly. He didn't resist as she slowly leaned in and kissed his neck, and he found his free hand reaching up to wind itself in the back of her hair, and when she leaned up to kiss his lips he growled and returned her kisses eagerly, letting go of her hand to grab her backside.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and when he pulled them away a moment later she started to protest, then he roughly turned her around and bent her over the stone table. She heard the jangle of his armor then his gauntlets hit the floor, and after hearing a strangled curse and fumbling she finally felt hard warmth against her backside, making her heart leap. Vilkas nudged her feet apart then slid quickly into her, making her moan, and there was no nicety to it this time as he grabbed onto her hips and thrust into her hard and quick. She stared at the wall in front of her in shock, the intensity of the pleasure even more than before as he went deeper than she thought possible, leaving her crying out breathlessly, and when he finished with a growl she could feel him pouring into her again, his fingers digging into her hips.

Vilkas leaned over her to place biting kisses on her neck and shoulders as he grabbed her breast. "Damn you woman, you're like fucking skooma," he whispered fiercely. The thought of what they looked like, him in full armor and Bryn naked beneath him, was driving him insane. They had to get out of his room, out of his gods-forsaken crypt, or he was going to lose his mind and keep doing her over, and over. He wasn't fit to fight anything more than a mudcrab in this condition. He pulled out of her and stood up, feeling weak and rather concerned about it, then he went to find the shirt he had cleaned off with earlier, his legs trembling. As he wiped himself off he looked at her, and she was still bent over the table, though she had her chin in her hands as she leaned on her elbows and watched him, her ass up in the air. He made a growling sound of frustration and closed his eyes and held out the shirt to her, and felt it taken from his hand. He felt a lingering kiss on his cheek and the soft tickle of her pubic hair on the back of his hand that made him start twitching to life again, the musky scent of sex swirling around him, and he groaned, "Please, just get dressed. I can't do it again. I don't have it in me."

"Oh, all right." He huffed and opened his eyes, quickly looking away from her as she put her foot up on the chair to let his seed run out. She laughed at his helplessness, feeling an oddly satisfying sense of newly discovered womanly powers. Lydia had never said anything about that.

"It isn't funny. I'm completely useless for anything now."

"That's odd, I feel fine."

"Because I did most of the work!" Bryn laughed again, and when he looked at her she was smiling impishly at him, and he couldn't help laughing as he shook his head. What a brat she was, but so charming he couldn't hold it against her.

"Maybe next time I will then, if you show me what to do." His smile faded, and she bunched up the shirt in her hands and pleaded, "I'll be good, Vilkas, I promise. I won't make things hard on you. I know you didn't want this, and that's okay. I'll be happy with whatever I can get."

He made a sound of pain and said, "You shouldn't be. Farkas told me what you came to Skyrim for." And she was the damned Dragonborn. She shouldn't simply take whatever she could get.

"I haven't wanted that since the moment I laid eyes on you." Not the blond part, anyway.

Vilkas stared at her in dismay for a moment before asking in a near whine, "Great Divines, why?" She shrugged and shook her head, and he growled in frustration and ran his fingers back through his hair. "You don't understand. Women don't like me. They get what they want then they can't get away fast enough. I don't know what it is, maybe it's the beastblood, I don't know, but they sense something and they leave as quickly as possible and never go near me again. They all love my brother, but not me." He saw her open her mouth to say it but she didn't, closing her mouth before the words came out.

Bryn said instead, "Lydia told me that. That she had been with you once, and…it was good, but the second it was over her skin started crawling."

"Ah, isn't that sweet," he said in pained offense. "So nice to hear that I make women's skin crawl."

"It's their loss. I don't see how anyone wouldn't want more of you. I just…I want to find some cozy little shack in the woods and do it until we both dry up and blow away."

"But…why? I don't understand," Vilkas groaned, putting his hand over his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at the adoration in her gaze. It was so foreign to him that he couldn't fathom how to handle it.

Bryn turned away to get dressed, tossing the shirt back where it had come from. "I honestly don't know. Maybe it's because I have the soul of a dragon. Really, what is a wolf compared to that?"

Vilkas' hand fell away, and he whispered, dumbfounded, "Well…not much, I suppose." She shrugged again. Maybe it really was the beastblood in him that women sensed. The Blood ran hotter in him than his brother, hotter than it did in Skjor or Aela, or maybe it was just his own nature that intensified the beastblood. He had always had a forceful personality, even as a child, while Farkas' had been mild, slow to anger, and where Farkas' temper blew itself out quickly once roused, Vilkas' simmered. Where Farkas let things go, Vilkas obsessed. It had always been that way, their entire lives. They had joined the Circle and become werewolves so young that making love to women with the Blood in his veins was all he really remembered. If it really was that his lovers sensed, something not quite right, something bestial, then there was nothing he could do about it, and it would always be that way. Except with Bryn. The lycanthropy was something that had become part of him, a disease when it came down to it, something he might conceivably be able to cure one day, but Bryn had been born with the soul of a dragon, an intrinsic part of her. It _was_ her.

As she fastened up the buckles on her cuirass she sadly said, "And what man is going to want me when all is said and done? Maybe I wanted a simple life with some stereotypical Nord man, but the second I killed that first dragon my dreams died on the vine before they could ever really even blossom. I can feel my doom driving me, pushing me to some glorious, terrible end. How can I take a husband knowing that?" Vilkas shook his head, and she said in resignation, "The Greybeards know it. I'm here for a purpose, and it's tied up with death, probably my own. Why shouldn't you and I enjoy each other as much as we can before that happens?"

"Shor's Bones, woman, don't talk like that!" he said in horror.

She pulled on her boots and continued, "Why not? I know you won't marry me, or give me children, and before you turn pale and gasp I made sure I wouldn't conceive from this. I wouldn't trick you into that." That particular simple potion had been one of the first she had learned from Arcadia, a Women's Secret forbidden to men, never taught to male alchemists, a particularly foul brew that just about crawled down one's throat but that hampered conception for a month. He didn't protest that he wasn't against marriage and children, simply gazing at her with a sorrowful expression. Just because he was addicted to having sex with her and had a basic amount of concern for her well-being didn't make him love her, or want to be with her forever. Maybe someday he could love her and want to marry her, but what was the point of that? If something terrible happened to her then he would be left alone and grieving. If she conceived a child, that child could die in her womb from a bad enough injury, and she had taken bad ones; even if the child did somehow make it to birth it could become motherless at any point after that, and how could she do her job waddling around in the meantime? She couldn't take several years off to birth and nurse a child; what she was doing was so much more important than that.

They were both silent as Bryn finished gearing up, and Vilkas had to resist the urge to ask _What are you thinking? _He wanted to know and didn't dare ask. She had gone from pleading to be together to this terrible resignation, though it wasn't hard to see why. No, he couldn't ever marry her. Neither of them was meant for that, and at this early point it wasn't even a consideration. Companions rarely married, and when they did they usually left Jorrvaskr; not that there was a rule on that, it was just tradition. Jorrvaskr and his shield-siblings were his entire life. Now that Bryn was healthy and had a fledgling purpose, she most likely would rarely stay in Whiterun for long at a time regardless. She slung her bow onto her shoulder and finally looked him in the eyes, and he took a deep breath then said in as strong a voice as he could muster, "Then we will make the best of what we have, for as long as we have it. I will not have it flaunted in front of the others in Jorrvaskr, but I will not have you kept some shameful secret either." He'd be a fool to think he could stay away from her after this. Even now it was all he could do not to reach out for her, if only to hold and smell her.

"Oh Vilkas," Bryn sighed in delighted surprise, her eyes shining. "Of course, whatever you want." It was more than she had hoped for, and it was enough. It would have to be. She resisted the urge to run to him and cover his cheeks with kisses.

He cleared his throat and motioned with his head towards the door. "Let's get out of this place. Maybe Wilhelm has some idea where to look for that claw, and perhaps we could get a bite to eat before we set out again."

"Okay!"

He laughed as she practically bounced out the door, all smiles and sunshine even in this terrible place. He couldn't imagine any other woman being made so happy over such a small thing, but then two hours ago he would have stabbed himself in the head at the very notion of what he had just agreed to, though he wasn't entirely sure at this point what he really had agreed to. He had to do it though. The thought of going back home and never touching her again made him feel sick with imagined loss. Seeing her so happy made some invisible weight lift from him, if only a little. If coming back to Whiterun and spending a little time with him now and then between adventures made her life easier, so be it, and he would see if he really had what it took to have an actual relationship with a woman, if that was what they could call it. He had to at least try or he would never forgive himself.


	10. Chapter 10

Vilkas closed the door to his room then sank into his favorite chair as he blew out a long breath of exhaustion. He was starting to think he was too damn old to keep up with the girl, at eleven years older than her. Her energy was astonishing, both for lovemaking and fighting. The last several days in her company had drained the pent-up tension and anger out of him, and now all he could do was sit there and try to come to grips with the entire experience. The things he had seen her do… It brought to mind Lydia's furious words with him what seemed like ages ago: _If you only knew the things I've seen her do!_ Well now he had seen them, all except the taking of a dragon soul, and he was so bewildered he was nearly numb. Peacefully numb, but numb. Through most of Shroud Hearth Barrow he had simply trailed in her wake, watching her work in ways entirely different from what most Companions would have done, feeling somewhat useless as she competently dealt with most situations with shadows and a bow and the occasional Shout, rarely pulling out her sword.

But what an experience it had been, watching her in action, seeing her grin as she dropped a firepot onto a group of skeletons and they all exploded into flames and fragments of bone, watching her pick off another room full of skeletons and draugr one by one as they popped out of their coffins, though he had had to fight the last big one at the end. He still couldn't help wondering if she had deliberately left him that one, sensing his frustration. And then that last room, with the word wall… He had watched in superstitious awe as she nearly ran to the wall and splayed her fingers against the brightly glowing word, squeezing her eyes shut as soft blue tendrils reached out and wrapped around her, hissing softly. Farkas hadn't described it like that. She hadn't a spare dragon soul to activate it and so he hadn't seen what it could do, but he had seen her_thu'um_ plenty of other times, mostly _YOL_ as she shouted fire at draugr who had gotten too close (and nearly Vilkas as well). What had stunned him the most however was when she had seen a pouch of gold and a soul gem in the word wall room, in an alcove on the wall, unreachable, or so he had thought; she had started running for the gap then shouted _"WULD!"_ and moved so quickly his eyes couldn't follow. She had nimbly jumped back, hefting the gold in her hand, smiling as her eyes shone, and he hadn't been able to help grabbing the front of her armor and pulling her against him for a deep kiss, nearly taking her right there, amazed and humbled by her.

The entire way home they had shared a bedroll, though he had tried the first night to stay away from her, and he had quickly realized how stupid it was to even try. He had to admit it was warmer that way. More than that, he had awoken each morning feeling…happy. The first morning she had awakened before him, the smooth slide of her body against his rousing him from sleep in the best possible way, but this morning he had been the first to wake up, and the first thing his eyes set upon after opening was her face. He had held completely still and studied every golden eyelash, the curves of her cheekbones and jaw, the few faint freckles across the bridge of her nose that he hadn't noticed before. As he'd stared at her he had felt an intense, aching _something_, something he had never felt before in his life, and when he had realized what it was he had whispered brokenly, "Damn you, girl…" Those golden-hazel eyes had fluttered open and she had smiled sleepily at him, and it had been like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, and he had fallen on her like a starving man on a banquet table. He couldn't get enough of her. And now they were home, and she was across town dealing with the seething Lydia who had been sitting at Breezehome's front door, sharpening her axe, glaring at Vilkas like she wanted to plant it right in his forehead, and he was here alone.

Vilkas jumped as Farkas burst through his door without knocking, not that he ever did, and his brother yelled happily, "Hey, you're back!"

"So it would seem."

"How did it go? Did you find the ghost?" Vilkas looked at him with a blank expression then grimaced and looked away, his cheeks turning red, and Farkas grunted and closed the door then put his back to it. He quietly said, "So you did do it. I didn't think you really would."

"Yes, I did."

"I hope you didn't hurt her," he said in warning, his eyes narrowed.

"Of course not."

"I didn't know what you were up to until Lydia and I were coming back around the mountain. She was pissed off the whole time and wouldn't say why, then she broke and told me. I wasn't very happy about it, but I never thought you would actually follow through." Vilkas didn't say anything, avoiding his eyes as he started undoing his armor. Farkas frowned as he watched him, moving tiredly, seeming sad if anything. Farkas didn't know if it was guilt, or what. He said in frustration, "Damn it Vilkas, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking she's a twenty-seven year old woman. I had no idea she was a virgin, and if you had told me so I never would have gone anywhere near her."

"Well shit, that isn't the kind of thing you go around telling people. I never thought you would go anywhere near a Shield-Sister."

"Neither did I."

"I hope she isn't sitting in Breezehome crying her eyes out. Lydia was still on fire when we got back. I think maybe she hates you."

"That's Lydia's problem, not mine," Vilkas said in irritation, throwing his armor on his bed. "Bryn is not a child and Lydia is not her mother. It is not her place to guard Bryn's chastity like an old mother hen watching over a chick. Bryn is not sitting at home crying her eyes out, I assure you."

"How so?" Vilkas didn't answer. He seemed anxious, in a way Farkas hadn't seen before, but moving like he was exhausted. "Did you guys run into trouble? You look tired." Vilkas' laugh was confusing to say the least. "Everything's okay, right?"

"Yes, yes, fine," he sighed. "No trouble. A lack of trouble, if anything. We moved through the crypt without a single problem. There was a word wall at the end, something neither of us expected." He sank down on his bed and looked down at his hands, desperately needing a bath and dreading washing the last of her off his body. "My presence there was redundant, actually. She seems very competent in that environment. I did little fighting, and even then I think she spared a few of them just for me."

"Aww, isn't that sweet." Vilkas rolled his eyes and leaned back on the bed, putting his hands behind his head, then he reached down and plucked a pale golden hair from the front of his shirt. He moved to throw it away then started to play with it, wrapping it around his fingers then unwinding it again. Farkas watched this with bemusement, and when his brother glanced at him then grumbled and got up to pace it hit him. It didn't seem possible. He said in shock, "Holy hells, you're in love with her!"

"Yes, I suppose so," Vilkas said in resignation. It wasn't what he'd wanted to happen, but he wasn't sorry that it had.

When Farkas finally got his voice back he asked in amazement, "From just one time?"

"No, it was not just one time, it was several times, and frankly none of your business," Vilkas said shortly.

Farkas stared at him then stated, "Huh. No wonder you took so long coming back. Lydia was about ready to head back and look for you guys."

"Lydia had best watch herself. I won't tolerate her interfering in our relationship, and neither will Bryn."

"Relationship!" he choked. He wasn't the sharpest sword on the rack, but he knew he had never been as completely floored as he was at this moment. "What the hell happened between you? And none of your crap about it not being my business. Of course it's my business. You're my brother and she might as well be my sister."

Vilkas folded his arms and stared at his bookshelf, unable to look his twin in the eye, his face warming again. "I only intended it to be the one time," he said quietly. "That was all it was supposed to be. This wasn't supposed to happen, but...Dibella help me, I couldn't keep my hands off her afterward, and she didn't turn away. You know they always do, but she kept me there and wouldn't let go, and the way she looked at me and smiled at me, the things she said to me..."

"Yeah, she has a way about her. Sweet as pie."

"Yes, well." He ran the strand of hair through his fingers, watching the candlelight glint off it. "I realized right afterward that she was a virgin, and I was furious, and I told her so, and she began crying and pleading for us to be together, and...and we did it again, it was like I couldn't help myself, and afterward I couldn't bear the thought of being without her. We both know it can't ever be exactly what she wants, but—"

"Why not?" Vilkas turned to look at him with narrowed eyes. "Why not marry her, someday? I'm not saying right now, but give it some time and who knows. You shouldn't write it off from the very start."

"Companions do not marry, and when they do they leave Jorrvaskr." Aela's mother Yngva hadn't, but that had been a strange situation that Vilkas still didn't know the details of and wasn't about to ask. Yngva hadn't been much warmer or more personable than her daughter and had considered the twins pests who had no business living in Jorrvaskr, so Vilkas had always avoided her when he was young, and she had died on a job when he was six.

"Who says? I never saw that rule written anywhere."

"You're not helping matters any! I told her we would do what we could to be together, but I will not have it paraded about these halls. And if you must know, she was the one who brought up being unable to marry, not me. You know as well as I do that she is rarely going to be here from now on. What she is won't allow it. There is a purpose behind it, her being Dragonborn, and it isn't to traipse about the country dispatching bandits and wolves. I don't doubt one bit that we're going to start seeing dragons appear more often from here on out, and who do you think is going to deal with that problem? She said that ever since speaking to the Greybeards the other day that she feels a doom upon her. She could die at any point—"

"So could we, and wouldn't that make it just that much more important to marry her?"

Exasperated, Vilkas exclaimed, "How the hell do you figure that! Why, so I could be a damn widower? Ugh, what the hell do you know, and we've only been together a few days. You don't talk about marriage after a few days."

"And sometimes you don't talk about it at all and just do it." That happened just as often as a proposal after a courtship; a person was ready to marry and put on an Amulet of Mara and took a look at who was interested, and if the offers looked good they picked one and went with it. It seemed to work just as well as any other way. In Skyrim courtships were never long. Unless you were stuck sneaking around forever like Jon and Olfina.

"This conversation, if you want to call it that, is over. I'm taking a bath and getting dinner then going to bed. I'm exhausted."

Farkas wiggled his eyebrows at his twin and said, "So she really got the hang of it, huh? Ran you through the wringer?" Vilkas growled and threw an empty goblet at him, missing him by a mile, but he got the message. "All right, I'm going, I'm going."

After Farkas left the room, Vilkas heard him whistling as he went across the hall, and a moment later he heard the rare sound of his brother playing the lute, something he did only when he was drunk or in an extremely good mood. It was good to hear, and he knew his twin meant well. Farkas loved them both dearly and to the simple man it probably seemed like a simple solution.

Vilkas moved to drop the hair on the floor, then he stopped himself and held it up to the light, watching it shimmer. He hesitated a moment then opened his copy of _Racial Phylogeny_ and laid it inside the section that addressed the mixed offspring of mer and men. He carefully closed the book to keep the hair in place, suddenly feeling something he hadn't since he was trapped in that cage thirty-five years ago: terribly lonely.

* * *

The sound of a sweet, familiar voice down the hall talking to Skjor was the first thing Vilkas heard upon waking, and he quickly rolled out of bed, appalled that he had slept so late. He ran his fingers through his unruly hair and threw on clean clothes as quickly as possible then opened his door and sauntered out of his room, hoping he looked as casual as he was trying to be. Bryn was talking to Skjor out in the main hallway, and he was relieved to see her wearing a dress and not armor. He knew she was setting out again soon. The trip through Shroud Hearth Barrow then home hadn't been taxing, or at least the fighting hadn't been, but he had hoped she would stay in Whiterun a few days.

Skjor stood looking between the two, both suddenly oblivious to him, and he watched in disbelief as Bryn smiled shyly at Vilkas and a broad smile slowly crept over Vilkas' face, the kind of smile he had never seen on the young man's face before. He folded his arms and Vilkas blinked and looked at him. Skjor raised an eyebrow in question.

"What?" Vilkas asked shortly.

"Oh, nothing," he said. "Just waiting for harps to start playing somewhere." Vilkas rolled his eyes, his cheeks reddening. Skjor turned back to Bryn and continued, "Anyway, it's a small job but one I think suits your skillset. We've heard of a criminal that's escaped Riften Jail. That place leaks like one of their fishnets, but that's what you get when you let thieves run your town. City is rotten to the core."

"I've never been there."

"Used to be a nice place once, not all that long ago, before the Black-Briars got hold of it. The Jarl there means well but some say she's completely oblivious to what's going on in her own hold, lets that Bosmer steward of hers run everything. I wouldn't trust anyone there as far as I could throw them."

"So…everyone's in on it?" she asked with worry. "The whole town?"

Skjor laughed and ruffled Bryn's hair then looked at Vilkas and said, "Isn't that cute." Vilkas did not look amused. Bryn cleared her throat and combed her fingers through her hair to straighten it out, and Skjor said to her, "What do you think, whelp? This job up your alley or not?"

Bryn nodded and said, "Yes, I think so. I need to get more experience out in the open country and see more of Skyrim. I've been spending too much time in crypts lately." It had annoyed Bryn not all that long ago that Skjor kept calling her whelp, but she had decided to take it as a term of endearment.

"Doing what, pray tell?"

"Well, Vilkas and I—"

"All right then," Vilkas said hastily, coming over to take Bryn's arm. "If you're heading out soon, you should eat some breakfast."

"Okay," she murmured with a smile. She looked over her shoulder and said to Skjor, "Goodbye!"

"Bye-bye," he replied in falsetto, waving his fingers at them.

"Smart ass," Vilkas muttered. Obviously Skjor had heard that Bryn and Vilkas had gone adventuring on their own together and their looks had given them away. He supposed it had to come out sooner or later, but he hadn't bargained for this soon, or to start grinning at her like a fool the second she looked at him. As they went down the hall, he let his hand fall away from her arm and quietly asked, "So you are heading out soon?"

"Oh, maybe later this afternoon. Not right now."

"Good."

"I'll take a carriage to Riften and try to sleep most of the way."

"I? You're going alone?"

"I'm a little annoyed with Lydia right now. She can stay home and organize my knick-knacks." Vilkas laughed at the sour tone of her voice. As they went through the door and paused on the stairs she softly went on for his ears alone, "I think she actually wanted me to stay, well, the way I was. It was the most bizarre thing, but I think in her mind it made me more…mystical or something. More Divine."

He smiled slyly at her and murmured, "I thought you very divine." Bryn bit her lip and giggled girlishly, turning pink, and it was all he could do not to push her against the wall of the stairwell and start something that they couldn't possibly finish. He couldn't help wondering if she was wearing anything under that dress. He moved closer to her and purred, "You looked most divine of all when you were riding me like a prize stallion."

"Oh," Bryn breathed, her mouth opening as she blinked and her groin tightened uncomfortably. He placed a tender kiss on her cheek and she bunched the front of his shirt in her hands. "Not now!" she whispered. "Someone will see!"

"So?"

"But...you said to not flaunt it here!" The kisses trailed down her neck, wildly distracting, and worrying her to death that someone would open the door or appear at the top of the stairs.

"You cannot flaunt where there's no one to see it."

"What in Azura's name is going on down there?" Athis' dark face peered over the railing, and his red eyes widened slightly before he grunted and added blandly, "I suppose it was only a matter of time. Carry on." Any halfway observant being could have seen that coming long ago.

As Vilkas stared hungrily at her she whispered, "You are in so much trouble!"

He laughed unrepentantly at her and she grabbed her skirts and flounced off up the stairs. She strode across the floor, not really angry, and took the seat next to the one he usually occupied. As Vilkas sank into the seat next to her he saw that the hall was mostly empty, all but the two elders off about their business, Athis on his way out the back doors. Tilma glanced at them as she swept and smiled slightly, winking at them, but Vignar stared at them from the seat near the doorway to his quarters, his eyes narrowed.

Vilkas ignored the old man and began serving himself, and when Bryn passed him bread and butter he nearly forgot himself and kissed her in thanks. He said to her in a lowered voice, not that Vignar would understand them from this far away, "Are you sure you should go alone? Riften is not the safest of cities."

"So Skjor said. I'm not sure why that is, exactly."

"There is a sort of thieves' guild operating out of there, so I've heard. A number of citizens in places both high and low are connected with it, but nothing anyone can prove. Jarl Laila Law-Giver believes it is only a few scum down in the sewers, but it is worse than that. I would not trust a single member of the Black-Briar family, that is for certain, and I would stay out of their meadery. Maven runs the town no matter who the Jarl is. However Skjor exaggerates the problem by saying to trust no one. There are many good, honest people in Riften still."

"I don't understand why the problem is allowed to fester," she stated with concern. "Why don't the guards…oh. Never mind."

"Yes, Maven has most of the guards on her payroll. Her steward Anuriel knows this and is on the payroll as well. The Jarl seems innocent in all this, but she is complicit in that she never questions anything Anuriel or Maven tell her. Anyone saying otherwise is thrown in Riften Jail, or worse." He shook his head at her and said, "I beg you, don't get involved. It isn't a matter that can be solved quickly or easily, and not while a civil war is going on."

"I won't get involved, I promise." Not yet, anyway.

"Good girl." She smiled at him, and he leaned in to kiss her when he heard the loud clearing of a throat. He quickly sat back and looked at Vignar in alarm, and as the old man slowly stood he muttered, "Ah damn." He cursed himself, feeling like an ass for telling Bryn days ago to not make a show of their relationship inside Jorrvaskr's walls and now for the third time he had done something impulsive and embarrassed them both. Maybe some time apart would be good for him, to let his head clear a little.

Vignar stopped at the side of the table and folded his arms as he gazed at the two lovers, since that was clearly what they were. "Kisses with breakfast," he said with disapproval. "Is that what this hall has come to?"

"Revered, it…it was, eh…" Vilkas trailed off, unable to defend himself or say anything that didn't sound asinine.

"Save it, boy. You think you're the first one here to lose his head over a pretty Shield-Sister? Happens all the time, but I expected better of one of the Circle. You're supposed to set an example for the others."

"The others are not here," Bryn stated, not at all happy about her beloved being chastised, and he wasn't even defending himself. "With all due respect, Vignar the Revered, are you concerned he will set a poor example for you or Tilma, at your esteemed ages?"

"If he's slipping up in front of me of all people, he might in front of the others. That is not what we do in this hall!"

Bryn made a soft sound of interest. "Ah, I see. Well, it's good that we have that understood. No kisses in the mead hall. Only fist fights, boasting and vomiting. Dignified things. Yes, Revered." She heard a snort from Vilkas and a soft chuckle from Tilma while the old man scowled, his eyes nearly disappearing into the folds of his face. She moved a seat away to leave hers empty and patted it, saying, "If you'd like, please sit between us as a chaperone, and we'll tell you about our visit to High Hrothgar. Vilkas and Farkas saw the Greybeards and heard them speak to me."

"Is that so," Vignar said in amazement, his scowl evaporating.

Vilkas stated, "Yes Revered, that is so. I was there when they declared her Dragonborn, and Ysmir. I saw all four of them Shout at her in the dragon tongue, and it shook the mountain."

"By Talos, that is a tale I want to hear!"

Bryn smiled mischievously at Vilkas and he couldn't help grinning back. Clever girl. He didn't particularly like having Vignar between them, but it made the old man happy and deflected attention from their relationship. Maybe Vignar would even forget it had ever come up, sparing Vilkas a call on the carpet with Kodlak, though he intended to visit him after Bryn left and ask his advice on how to proceed with her, what the protocol was for such a thing. He only hoped that he didn't get raked over the coals for it, or told that one of them would have to leave Jorrvaskr. He knew it would be Bryn, even as much as she loved it here; she would volunteer immediately, to spare him the pain of leaving what had been his home since he was a mere babe. He hoped it didn't come to that.

* * *

"Well, this is a day I never thought I would see. I thought it would be your brother in here one day, but never you."

"Harbinger, I can explain," Vilkas said quietly, his face warm. He felt like an awkward youth being dressed down by his father over some indiscretion. At least the outer doors were closed.

"Oh, please do. This should prove rather interesting." He motioned for Vilkas to sit down, and he had to keep his expression tightly controlled to keep from giving himself away. So the not so young man was in love, and with their pretty Dragonborn Shield-Sister at that, the one he had given such a hard time at first. The reason for that hard time was rather apparent now, not that it hadn't always been to some extent.

Vilkas sat down and glanced at his master, the man he had considered a father since Jergen had left. Farkas never really had, still clinging to the missing man's memory, but Vilkas loved Kodlak dearly, and the thought of disappointing him nearly brought him to tears. But the thought of not having Bryn was just as bad. Kodlak stared back, waiting, and he let out a shaky breath and put his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees. "I can't explain," he choked. "Dibella help me, I really can't." He kept himself there, unable to look at his master. "I never intended this to happen. I only intended to…to scratch an itch."

"With the Dragonborn? As if she's some pub wench?"

"I know it was wrong! Believe me, in hindsight, I must have been out of my mind. It was inappropriate on nearly every level, but now it's too late and gods help me, what am I going to do? I can't leave Jorrvaskr, I won't do that, I can't, but I don't want her thrown out either, it wasn't her fault. It was my fault, every step of the way."

"Why would there be any fault involved?"

"She…" Vilkas swallowed hard, his face burning with shame. "She was a maiden. A virgin."

"Ysgramor's balls," Kodlak grunted. That shocked even him. Now that he knew, he supposed he could see the evidence of that, just from her behavior, and from what she had said about her overly controlling adoptive parents. Altmer were rather uptight about such things. About everything, really.

Vilkas took his face out of his hands and leaned across the small table as he went on quickly, "I had no idea, Master, I swear it! I never would have even looked at her if I had known, let alone…do what I did. I had no idea until…until she healed herself afterward and I was so angry that she'd tricked me that I blew up at her, and she started crying and I felt horrible, I mean, it wasn't as if she'd lied about it, and… and you know women, they're repelled by me, Bryn think's it's the beastblood that does it and it doesn't affect her because she's a dragon, I mean, she has the soul of a dragon, and it isn't frightened by a mere wolf, why would it be—"

"Slow down, boy, you're giving me a headache," Kodlak demanded, though it was all he could do not to start laughing. The mighty, brilliant Vilkas, reduced to stammering and blushing by a girl. Vilkas fell silent, still leaning across the table, a desperate look on his face. "So, you got caught in your own snare, did you? You thought you would take a Shield-Sister for a tumble and ended up falling in love with her. There's a certain justice there, don't you think?"

"I suppose," he said miserably.

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Do? What is there to do? We agreed to spend what time we could together, without rubbing everyone's nose in it."

"Is that so. Seems you haven't done a particularly good job of that so far, considering that three different Companions have come to me today to tell me about it."

Vilkas groaned and covered his eyes. "It was my fault, not hers. This has all been my fault. All of it. Ah gods, what am I going to do!"

Kodlak finally laughed, "Calm down lad, and quit castigating yourself. It's as if you think yourself the first of us this has ever happened to."

"So Vignar said, but he also reminded me that I am a member of the Circle. I should know better than to behave in such a way inside the hall."

"Well, when the heart rules the head, it doesn't matter what one knows, only what one feels." It made Kodlak feel terribly old to have this discussion with Vilkas now, at the end of his life, when any other father would have been doing it when the boy was in his teens. It was touching that Vilkas had finally found love, in his late thirties at that, though Kodlak had always imagined Farkas finding it first, or if nothing else throwing on an Amulet of Mara and seeing what stuck. Actually, knowing Farkas it would be the second method that won out. He continued, "If it's any consolation, I am happy for you, and Bryn. She is happy about all this, I hope?"

"Yes..." Kodlak waited, and he went on with worry, "I have...concerns, about the future. As she does. After...well, the first day we were together, before we decided to try to make it work, she spoke of having a doom upon her, that she had felt it ever since we visited High Hrothgar. She said she sometimes feels as if her only purpose is to eventually die in glory, and I don't mean in the way we talk about it here, among the Companions. She said she could never marry because of it, and frankly I can't help agreeing with her. How could we marry when she is gone so often, when she could die at any moment?"

"Yes, but one could say the same about any of us."

Vilkas shook his head. "No, with respect Harbinger, this is different. We spend most of our time here, in Jorrvaskr, and our deaths when and if they come are something random, an encounter gone badly. Bryn's fate...it's difficult not to see her path as predetermined, heading towards some ultimate goal, something terrible."

"Ah." He shifted in his seat as a pain hit him deep inside, taking his breath away. Vilkas started to rise from his seat but Kodlak held up his right hand, his left arm going around his middle. "Just…"

"Yes Master," Vilkas whispered, sinking back down into his seat. It was agonizing watching the older man suffer so and being so completely helpless to even ease it. His eyes squeezed shut, Kodlak motioned for him to keep talking. "The Greybeards declared her Ysmir, Dragon of the North, and spoke of the Stormcrown."

"Talos."

"Aye. Lydia told Farkas that after returning from retrieving the Horn, Bryn spoke of unifying Skyrim, driving out the Thalmor, destroying them even." He hesitated then continued, "She said nothing of such things while we were traveling together, and said nothing more of having a doom upon her. She was… happy. We both were. The beastblood, it was quiet. It still is." Making love to Bryn over and over had sated the wolf in him for the time being, but now that she was gone it was hard to say how long the peace would last, or how long she would be away. Even she didn't know and hadn't even tried to guess. He missed her desperately already.

"Good, good. Glad…glad you boys went."

"Aye, we both are. To see such a thing in our lifetimes was an honor beyond compare. And Bryn… Master, the things I saw her do! I saw the word of power in the depths of the barrow glow and reach for her. I saw her breathe fire and Shout thunder and move like lightning. She is…she is beyond compare." Kodlak's right hand came down on Vilkas' arm and squeezed, still strong.

"Be worthy."

"I have done my best to be." Kodlak kept his hand there and Vilkas laid his own over it, feeling a choking lump in his throat. Sweat was beginning to run down the old man's brow and he grimaced again, and Vilkas whispered, "Please, let me put you to bed, Harbinger. This one is bad." Kodlak nodded, squeezing his eyes shut again, and Vilkas took his hand and helped him up from his seat, the first time the Harbinger had ever allowed it. He put his arm across his back and under his other arm and they slowly made their way to Kodlak's bedroom, the younger man dismayed at how much weight the older one had lost recently. His body was eating itself alive.

He got Kodlak into his sleeping robe and into bed, the older man's embarrassment at the situation obvious and to Vilkas' mind unwarranted. The rot had no cure, and everyone grew old eventually, if they lived long enough, and not everyone wanted to die in battle. Vilkas certainly didn't at this point, not now that he had Bryn. He couldn't bring himself to dream of an old age surrounded by children and grandchildren, not yet, but he couldn't rule it out either. Who knew when the next time was that they would even see each other, let alone spend a night together? He could barely think that far ahead, not knowing when it would be.

He wished she would have taken Lydia with her though, for not the first time since she left. He had asked her to as she was readying herself to leave; Lydia had made herself scarce as the two of them had entered the house, muttering that she had errands to run, avoiding Vilkas' eyes and seeming chastened, and he hadn't gloated. It had given him and Bryn an hour to make love in a proper bed for once. It had started so movingly, with Bryn still a bit shy but saying with pink cheeks and a smile that it was her turn to do the work if he showed her what to do, and Vilkas had been too stunned and aroused to argue as she slowly removed his clothes, then her own, and pushed him back onto the bed to run her eyes and hands and mouth over every inch of him, something she hadn't had the chance or courage to do before, and then she had ridden him from start to finish, her fingers interlaced with his over his head, holding him down. It had made him feel vulnerable, almost virginal, to lay there and be made love to, softly telling her where and how to kiss and touch him. It was yet another first for him, something he had never imagined allowing any woman to do to him, and when it was over the room had nearly been spinning around him. He had almost told her then that he loved her, and now he wished he had.

Sighing heavily with loneliness, he found himself outside in the courtyard, bypassing Torvar and Njada arguing drunkenly about something he cared not a whit about. He went to one of the bastions overlooking the White River Valley, feeling restless and bored all at once, not entirely sure what to do with himself now. His brother had headed out after lunch with Ria and Athis on a job somewhere in Falkreath, and Skjor and Aela were once again nowhere to be found inside Jorrvaskr. Vignar was having dinner with his brother's family, the whole lot of them no doubt sitting around the table grousing about the Empire and/or the Battle-Borns. There was no one here to talk to except Tilma, and she was taking the rare opportunity to sit quietly for a while and relax, and honestly there wasn't much in the way of conversation there.

He leaned his arms on the wall and watched the sails on the windmill at Chillfurrow Farm turn in the breeze. He tried to simply let his mind go blank, to get some of the peace of mind his brother enjoyed, but he didn't have it in him. His mind never stopped turning, never stopped working, and while he was usually glad of that, he wasn't right now.

A distant, reverberating roar sent chills through him, and he saw a faint shadow make a few lazy turns around the mountains across the river then disappear again. "Dragon!" he whispered shakily. Gods help him, he had seen a real dragon! He scanned the line of peaks intently, but the beast didn't reappear, and he kept it to himself, half-afraid he would sound like a frightened little boy if he ran and told someone. The creature was gone now, and telling another Companion or the guards would accomplish little other than panic. Vilkas stayed where he was though, wondering how the hell Bryn had found the courage to face a dragon twice, when seeing one from a distance like this was so terrifying.


	11. Chapter 11

"You can get a room at the Bee and Barb, but mind your coin purse. It's no secret the Thieves Guild makes its home there. You look like you can handle yourself in a fair fight, but they don't fight fair."

The driver's soft warning worried Bryn a bit, but not unduly; Skjor and Vilkas had both warned her. "Thank you, I'll be careful."

"And if you run into Maven Black-Briar…stay on her good side. This is her city, no doubt about it."

"I'll be sure to do so."

"Safe travels."

"You too." He turned away to go chat with the other carriage driver, and Bryn rotated her shoulders and neck as she headed for the gates, her body stiff from sitting in the wagon for so long. Vilkas had been right about riding in that regard. The driver had been a pleasant and talkative traveling companion, full of useful information about the major cities of Skyrim, and she'd made note of it all in her journal. The trip in general had been pleasant, The Rift a gorgeous land of golden birch forests and lakes. Her mother Heska's family was from The Rift but Bryn's aunt had never said where exactly, and she had little information to go on. Maybe one day she would find the time or the courage to look for whatever grandparents or cousins she might have left, if any.

The guard at the gates was just as obnoxious as she'd feared, and worse, he tried to extort a bribe from her. She was a bit naïve, but not stupid. It had clearly been a shakedown and she told him so, and he'd folded and let her in. It hadn't been a good omen as to how this city worked. To be fair, he had glanced nervously at the female guard manning the other side of the gate, so perhaps not all of them were dirty.

She paused inside the gates, overhearing a young couple in earnest conversation to her right. Bryn was so paranoid now that she couldn't tell if the conversation was a true one or for her benefit. She bit her lip and watched the big woman, Mjoll, walk away from the young man, Aerin, and decided that while she couldn't live with automatically distrusting everyone, she simply didn't have the time to chase down everything she heard. At the moment she had an escaped criminal to catch.

Bryn made her way across town to Riften Jail, making note of the marketplace and a smithy. She paused to listen to the hum of the market and watch the smith work; he must be Balimund, the expert smith Alvor had told her about so long ago. She couldn't help admiring the man, blond and well-built, as muscular as Farkas but not as tall, and good-looking in a rugged way. Perhaps if she had seen him before Vilkas he might have piqued her interest. Maybe she would come back this way after finding the escapee and see just what he knew about smithing that Adrianne didn't. She hadn't been able to help her friend much lately or do more than stop by and chat, but at least the Imperial order was filled thanks to Bryn and Adrianne wasn't nearly as harried.

She got moving again and saw a temple to her left. She wasn't well-versed yet in Nord religion and didn't recognize the symbol, only familiar at this point with Kynareth and Talos. It never hurt to know the local resources. She went to the nearby beggar and handed him a septim, saying kindly, "Here friend, let me buy you a drink." She didn't mind enabling his habit; her actions either way wouldn't change his behavior, and for a little while he could buy some liquid happiness. Or smoke some. It really wasn't any of her business what his vice was as long as no one else was getting hurt because of it.

The man smiled at her with a good third of his teeth missing, but his eyes shone as he said in a slurred voice, "Thank you, pretty lady. Divines smile on you for your kind heart."

"Speaking of Divines, the temple there..."

"Ah, Mara's temple. The goddess of love and compassion. People all over Skyrim go there to marry, y'know. Got married there myself once, back when things were good. You lookin' to get married?"

"Oh. Oh, no," she said haltingly. "I just wanted to make a donation." Mara was the same goddess all over Tamriel, but her symbol was different in Cyrodiil.

He winked at her and said, "Well, you change your mind you let me know."

Bryn laughed and quickly walked away, trying not to let her revulsion show. Vilkas hadn't mentioned the temple here, and she had to wonder if it simply hadn't occurred to him, or if he hadn't wanted the topic brought up. They hadn't spoken of marriage since the brief mention of it in the barrow, happy simply to spend time together, but Bryn hadn't been able to help thinking of it every so often. She still did. She had mostly been acting morose when she'd told Vilkas she couldn't marry because she would just end up dying before too long. If Vilkas loved her enough he would want to marry her regardless, and he was the kind of man that wouldn't let much stop him if he put his mind to something. Their relationship was so new yet that she couldn't expect that sort of thing from him. Her aunt had told her that some Elven courtships lasted years. She hoped human ones didn't. Maybe the Temple of Mara could shed some light on that for her when she was done with the escaped criminal. She wasn't in much hurry to return home, even for Vilkas; she had adventured too much lately with help, and she needed to learn to stand on her own.

Missing her beloved, Bryn hurried to the jail to attend to business, finding out that the criminal had scaled a wall and set off to the north, that he was a Redguard who had killed someone in a brawl, continuing to beat the other man well past when he had yielded, and that at this point they didn't want him back dead or alive, simply disposed of in whatever way was expedient. Bryn found the task distasteful but it wasn't her place to judge; if the man had been a thief or any other sort of minor criminal she doubted they would be paying what they were to have him dealt with. They needed no proof that the job was done, simply her word as a Companion that it would be. They had no idea she was the Dragonborn, and that was fine with her.

She headed back out the main gate, seeing the carriage driver heading north on the road back to Whiterun. She wasn't sure how he braved the roads alone. She took a deep breath of the warm, sweet air and was about to set off when she heard the gates behind her open. Glancing back, she saw a young man running towards her, looking breathless but not worried.

"Brynhilde?"

"Yes, that's me," she answered, then wondered if she had made a mistake when he started reaching into his belt. Then she realized he was going through a belt pouch, of which he had several, some of them long and rectangular with hardened sides, as if to protect something fragile within. He took out a letter and held it out to her. The young man was wiry, as if he spent a great deal of time running. Feeling foolish, she realized he was a courier, and she took the letter. Couriers in Cyrodiil always rode horses, fast ones. She understood Vilkas' reasoning in not using them, but it seemed a courier would be better off using one.

"Glad I finally caught up with you. Special delivery, a letter."

"Really! From who?"

"Didn't say, only that he was a friend of yours."

"Oh. Do I owe you anything for your trouble?"

"No ma'am, I've already been paid for my services. Well, gotta go!" He turned on his heel and sprinted back into town.

"How odd," Bryn murmured. She had never gotten a letter before, let alone one so mysterious. She opened the folded parchment sealed with red wax and read:

_ Brynhilde,_

_ You caused a bit of stir in Ivarstead when you demonstrated the power of your Thu'um. Not everyone is anxious for the return of the Dragonborn._

_ I for one desire to see you grow and develop your talents. Skyrim needs a true hero these days._

_ You should turn your attention to Kilkreath Ruins. I understand it holds a mysterious source of power that can only be unlocked by the Dragonborn._

_ Sincerely,_

_ A Friend_

"How odd!" she repeated. A friend…she had no clue who such a person could be, or why any friend of hers would be so mysterious. She wished she had asked the courier what the man had looked like, since he had said it was a he. She turned the letter over and over in her hands, trying to find some identifying mark, but there was none; the parchment itself looked old, as if it had been sitting in storage for some time, and had a Nordic design on the border. The ink was fresh though. The red seal had no insignia upon it. She refolded the letter and put it inside her journal for safekeeping and briefly consulted her map, but as she expected the ruins weren't marked on it, in fact it seemed it was doing her little good at all as far as guidance, having little more than the major cities and towns marked along with the main roads and the borders of the holds and major bodies of water. She sniffed in derision and put it away, wondering if she could find a better one somewhere, or a guidebook.

She continued on the road north and came to the three watchtowers guarding the main road, the one she had come in on by carriage. A quick chat with the guards told her he hadn't come this way; it was impossible to get down the road this way without being spotted. She thanked them and returned to the city gates and consulted the stablemaster Hofgrir, nearly getting into a brawl to see who was stronger, though the bet had sounded good-natured. She wasn't ready for another one of those, and frankly the bet annoyed her, as the man had obviously been much larger than her. He said he had seen someone sneaking around the stalls a couple days ago and had run him off, but it had been dusk so he hadn't gotten a good look at the man, who had taken off along the less-traveled road to the west.

Bryn set out that way, taking in another deep breath of the wondrous air, with none of that crisp bite she was used to. It was certainly beautiful country, though she missed Whiterun. Within a short period of time she came to a small farmstead being worked by a tired-looking Dunmer couple. A couple guards lazily strolled around, looking at the mer with contempt. Bryn grumbled and went to the woman, who was hoeing the field while her husband pushed the grindstone.

"Excuse me," Bryn started.

"Yes?" she responded, not pausing in her work. The poor woman looked exhausted.

"I'm looking for an escaped criminal, a Redguard. He broke out of Riften Jail several nights ago and was seen heading this way."

"Can't say that I have, however we do go to bed quite early."

The woman rubbed her hands over her eyes, and Bryn said, "Do you need some help, muthsera? You look tired." The Dunmer woman looked up in shock at the term, and the offer. Bryn motioned with her head toward the fields. "Let me find the man I'm looking for, and I'll return here and help with whatever needs doing."

"Well…yes," she said in astonished gratitude. "We could always use help picking the crops. The work never ends, and my husband, Dravin…some days I swear he's ready to pack up and return to Morrowind. After we were, well, robbed, Dravin became more bitter than ever. He hates this place."

"Robbed? Well, I will make certain to hear more about that as well when I return."

"Who…who are you?"

"I am Brynhilde, of the Companions." It sounded nobler than just Bryn, more Nord. Someone had to help these poor people, and she wanted it known that a Nord had done it, or at least a mostly Nord. Her aunt and grandmother had always called her Brynni, but her uncle and cousin had always called her by her full name, rubbing her nose in her Nord heritage. Maybe it was time to take full ownership of it and start going by the name her mother had given her at birth and stop being afraid of it. The name meant 'ready for battle', and she certainly always was.

"I thought they only dealt in coin, and we have very little."

"I'm what you would call…a special division. I do what they haven't the time or resources for, and I would take nor expect not a single septim from you."

"Well then, I am grateful." She smiled briefly. "Or I will be when those crops get picked."

"I'll return as quickly as possible." The woman nodded and went back to work. Her husband had watched the entire exchange with open distrust, scowling as he pushed the grindstone around. She would deal with the robbery as well and see if she couldn't make things easier for them, at least for a little while.

* * *

Farkas found Lydia where he expected, waiting at Breezehome's front door on a stool, looking more anxious than ever, worrying at her bottom lip as she whittled a stick, the shavings joining into a pile at her feet, swept away every night only to return the next day. As he approached he called out to her, "Hey lady, the forest is running out of sticks."

Lydia threw the stick down and shoved the knife into its sheath as she stood, saying to him, "I'm worried sick about her, damn it! Nearly five weeks she's been gone. Five! And not a word from her. It's…it's really damn rude. It's stupid. It's foolish! Why did she go alone? Was what I did that terrible? I was just trying to protect her!"

"I'm sure she's fine," he soothed. He reached her and rubbed her shoulder, continuing quietly, "She knows what you were trying to do, and why. She wasn't mad when she left, or so Vilkas said."

"Is _he_ worried about her?"

"Of course he's worried about her. He's very worried about her. When we reached the month mark he started packing up to go look for her and Kodlak told me to stop him. It took me and Skjor to keep him there and calm him down. He's kind of hot-headed." His beast had been giving him nothing but trouble since she had been gone, and either Farkas or Skjor had been trying to keep an eye on him at any given time, though Skjor was being an ass and telling him to just change and get it over with. It didn't help matters any. Vilkas could barely go out, his edginess making folk nervous, and if he got anywhere near Anoriath's meat stall he started losing it.

"You don't say." Farkas shrugged and nodded, missing her sarcasm.

"Yeah, he really is. Anyway, we're all worried, but there was some reason she wanted to do this, besides teaching you a lesson. Maybe she went alone just to see if she could."

"Sure, but for five weeks? What on earth has she been doing all this time? And in Riften of all places!"

"Maybe she didn't stay in Riften this whole time."

"Or maybe she saw what a mess that place is and let her honor and charity get the better of her, and got involved in things she shouldn't have. Like crossing the Black-Briars."

"She isn't that naïve, Lydia," he said with a touch of disapproval. She put her hands on her hips, scowling, and he motioned for her to go inside Breezehome so they could talk more privately. Once they were inside and the door closed he stated, "Look, she's a fast learner. Considering how sheltered she was when she came here she's done really damn well for herself. And as for the business between her and my brother, it's their business. How long were you planning on keeping her a virgin, anyway?"

Offended, she exclaimed, "What the hell do you mean? That wasn't my intent at all! I was trying to keep her away from your slimy twin and his—"

"Hey, that's my brother and best friend you're talking about," he warned. "He's a good man, an honorable man, and he didn't know she was a virgin. He had no idea at all, and he was really upset when he found out." Lydia's anger subsided a bit at that. "He got what was coming to him. He went where he shouldn't have, and only because she was a Shield-Sister, not because she was a virgin, and he fell in love with her. He's been moping around Jorrvaskr like a moony teenager and driving us all nuts. It wasn't just a fling for him."

Lydia said painfully, "Okay, fine, but Dibella's mercy Farkas, he deflowered her in a burial mound!"

"Well, things happen." She made a sound of disgust. "It's not like they were doing it right next to a dead body. He did it with kindness and respect. I didn't get details and I don't want them, but Bryn said he was sweet and gentle, and she was happy, and that's all that matters. Whatever you find creepy about my brother, well, she doesn't. They love each other and you have to leave it alone." He grinned at her and added, "Besides, where did you get deflowered? In a fancy canopy bed covered in rose petals?"

She laughed and went to punch him in the shoulder but he caught her fist before it could connect. When he kept hold of her hand and started to pull her close she murmured, "You'll never know." It had been awkward and painful, some boy in her hometown, two lanky teenagers fumbling around in the hayloft of his father's barn trying to figure out how the hell it all fit together, and he had gone off to join the Legion not long after that.

"Don't need to know," he said just as quietly. He kissed her knuckles and she raised an eyebrow in question, and he asked, "What are you doing for dinner tonight?"

"No plans."

"Hulda got in a fresh case of Honningbrew mead, said she was going to make a salmon chowder and bake some fresh sourdough bread. She does this thing where she bakes it in a ball then scoops the middle out to make it into a bowl, but you can eat the bowl."

"Sounds good." She smiled slyly and added, "I might even be able to manage a dress."

"That sounds even better. Don't wear anything under it though. I want to think about it while we're eating."

She laughed, "I can manage that." That was the thing about Farkas, he always said what was on his mind, in the plainest possible way, and never left you guessing. This date though, this was something new. He had never asked her out to eat before. He had been spending a lot of time coming around Breezehome lately though. He hadn't tried getting her into bed since their return from High Hrothgar, though he had shared a bedroll with her on the way home both nights, which had been a nice novelty. He certainly had been a magnificent bear of a man, with the campfire shining on his handsome face and lighting up those lovely eyes. It had been a bit romantic, surprisingly, though she had worried about Bryn the entire time in the back of her mind, wondering if this thing that came so easily to her was distressing her lady, experiencing it for the first time.

It embarrassed her a bit, now, to think she had underestimated Bryn so much, that she had thought her such a delicate creature that she would be traumatized by losing her virginity, to someone like Vilkas at that. It wasn't as if Vilkas were cruel, or a rough lover. Bryn had refused to talk to her about the experience once she came home, saying only that it had been wonderful, that they loved each other, and that Lydia had best behave herself from now on, her golden eyes full of angry fire. Lydia had meekly apologized, and Bryn had stayed around just long enough to bathe and change into fresh clothes then she had headed up to Dragonsreach for dinner with the Jarl and his court. Lydia had stayed behind, mending and cleaning Bryn's gear and restocking her pack, hoping they would set out for Mount Anthor the next day, and instead Bryn had announced the next afternoon that Skjor had given her a job near Riften, and that she had no idea when she would be returning, and that she would be going alone and didn't want any arguments to the contrary. Vilkas had accompanied Bryn back to Breezehome and stayed quietly out of the way as Lydia helped her prepare; Lydia had to admit that he'd had the good grace not to gloat and had indeed seemed to avoid her gaze, almost as if he were embarrassed, knowing that he had done exactly as Lydia feared. Vilkas had walked Bryn out to the stables, and when he had walked past again half an hour later he hadn't even noticed Lydia at Breezehome's door, sweeping the front step for something to do. He had been so lost in thought that his surroundings hadn't even seemed to register.

"What are you thinking?" Farkas asked. "You're not doing that thing I do, are you?"

"No," she said with sad amusement. "Just thinking about Bryn and Vilkas."

"Sweet, isn't it."

"I guess. As long as he loves her."

Farkas rolled his eyes and let go of her hand. "Yeah, I'd say he loves her. It's sickening. He makes things so damn hard on himself, and everyone around him. I told him he should just marry her and he wrung his hands and fussed like an old lady."

"Marry her! You honestly think he should marry her?"

"Sure, why not? They make each other happy and seem to get along really well once they got all that tension out of the way. He wanted her from the second he saw her and was too stupid to admit it. Brains of Ysgramor my ass. He's got so much brains they get in the way of common sense. You don't just fall in love with someone like that unless it means something, or spend weeks on end pining away for someone like you're missing half of yourself. I think they were made for each other and he might want to try listening to me once in a while."

Lydia stared at him in astonishment, her mouth hanging open, then an urgent knock on the door stopped whatever she had been about to say. She shook herself and ran to open it, knowing it wasn't Bryn, who had the key. A courier stood there, young and lean as they always were, barely winded from running.

"Lydia of Whiterun, right? Housecarl of Thane Brynhilde?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Got a letter here for you, your eyes only." He handed it over then saw the big man behind her. Really tall, hugely built, dark brown hair, light gray eyes, small scar over the left eyebrow. "Farkas of Jorrvaskr?"

"Sure am," he answered.

"Got a letter here for you too."

"A letter, for me?"

"Yep." He handed it over to the big man, who stared at it with worry, as if afraid to open it.

"Is it bad?"

"Huh?"

"Who is this from?"

The courier made a sound of understanding. "Oh, no no no. These letters are from Brynhilde, thane of The Rift. She's alive and well, I assure you."

Lydia barked, "Thane of The Rift! What the fuck!"

"Er, gotta go," the courier said hastily. "Got more letters to deliver." He sprinted off and quickly removed himself from the situation.

Lydia tore her letter open and started reading, feeling hot all over. Thane of The Rift! How the hell could Bryn be Thane of The Rift? She was already a Thane of Whiterun! You couldn't be thane in more than one hold! Could you?

_ Dear Lydia,_

_ I'm so sorry it took this long to let everyone know how I was doing. I've been so incredibly busy that the days flew by and before I knew it a month was gone. Don't worry, everything is going well, though Riften is just as dirty as Skjor warned me it would be. That hag Maven has been watching me like a hawk, especially since a mysterious someone went through the Ratway and disposed of all the rats. I haven't crossed her but I won't back down from her either. They say the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood are at her beck and call, but I've seen this so-called Guild and it's pathetic, and if that lame assassin I ran into the other day near Shor's Stone is any indication of the DB's proficiency, it's sadly lacking. Really, was that the best they could do? 'Poor fool' indeed…I'd make a better assassin than that noisy Argonian they sent after me!_

"Great Divines," Lydia whispered in terror. Farkas wasn't reading his letter, instead watching as she read hers. "They sent the Dark Brotherhood after her," she said in a shaking voice. "I think it was Maven Black-Briar. Bryn killed everyone in The Ratway but hasn't touched the Guild." Yet.

"She killed the assassin?"

"Well, yes, but…they'll send others."

"Yeah, and eventually they'll run out of assassins." He tucked his letter in the front of his shirt. "I bet Vilkas got a letter too. I'm going to go see him and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. See you at six?"

"Sure." She was too upset now to even look forward to it. As he left she continued reading:

_ But there are so many good people here, people who hate how things are. You'll have to meet my friend Mjoll. She was the one who inspired me to stay and try to help the people here. The Jarl appreciates my efforts, and before you get too upset let me say first that I didn't think she would make me a thane. I wasn't expecting that at all. I've killed three dragons here in The Rift, ones Jarl Laila had put a bounty on. It was really tough on my own, I won't lie about that. The first one at Autumnwatch Tower nearly finished me, but I learned a lot from the encounter, and the second and third ones at Northwind Summit and Lost Tongue Overlook went a bit easier. I got three new Shouts in the bargain as well as more scales and bones! I still don't know what to do with them, though I let my friend Balimund take a look at them and he said they might be workable in a forge, having a high metallic content. He said it was beyond his skill, but I bet Eorlund would be able to figure out how to use them._

_ The strangest thing was a letter I got from a courier the day I arrived at Riften, from some unknown 'friend' who wants to see me develop my thu'um. He gave me a tip about Kilkreath Ruins, but that's too far away to follow up on right now. I have no idea who this person was, though the courier said he was male, and how could whoever it is have known I used the thu'um in Ivarstead? It's all quite bizarre._

_ I'll be coming home soon. I was allowed to buy a house here in Riften, a nice place called Honeyside, and while it's very nice and right on the lake it just doesn't feel cozy like Breezehome does, and this housecarl Iona they gave me is so stiff and odd. She does her duty but I just can't warm to her, or her to me, so I haven't taken her out with me anywhere. I don't really want to anyway. It wouldn't feel right to take anyone but you along. I feel bad that we parted as we did, but I'll be home a day or so after you get this letter and we'll put things to rights. I'll probably have to start splitting my time between Whiterun and Riften from now on, and I hope that won't cause problems, but I've made a lot of good friends here and feel like my work isn't yet done, especially my studies with Balimund. He jokes that he performs miracles with steel, but it isn't far from the truth._

_ Love,_

_ Bryn_

Lydia let out a long, slow breath, unsettled but not as afraid as she had been. Bryn seemed to be thriving on her own, though the business with Maven Black-Briar had Lydia extremely worried. The woman was evil to the core, ruthless, and supposedly had friends in high places within the Empire. Even if Bryn managed to completely wipe out the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood, Maven could still conceivably find some way to strike back at her.

She set the letter aside and went upstairs to unlock the small lockbox in her room that held the gold for household expenses; she had been taking most of her meals at the Drunken Huntsman lately and the house wasn't as well-stocked as it should be. Bryn's bedding also needed airing out. It would be plenty to keep her busy until dinner.

* * *

"Balimund," Vilkas growled, nearly crumpling the letter in his hands. Balimund. Mjoll. Honeyside. The Temple of Mara. Thane of The Rift. It was as if Bryn had created an entire parallel life in Riften that had nothing to do with him or the Companions or any of the other people who had loved and supported her from the start.

Farkas watched his brother continue reading, his face flushed and eyes blazing, and when his twin threw the letter on his bed then started pacing he asked, "What's wrong? Did your letter say something mine didn't?"

"Of course it did, why wouldn't it?"

"I don't mean the mushy stuff. She told me that she became a Thane of the Rift and killed some dragons and made some friends. Sounds nice. I think Lydia was kind of jealous that Bryn has a new housecarl, but it's not like it's any kind of threat to her. She seems happy with all the smithing she's been doing."

"With Balimund."

"Yeah? I've heard he's really good. He…ohhh." Big, blond, fairly good-looking, personable, stable. Even Farkas could see Vilkas' worry. Both of them knew of the smith, having visited Riften on business many times, and while he was a bit arrogant when it came to his work, it was warranted, and he was a decent man. Bryn loved smithing, and it seemed she liked Riften, and Balimund could provide the very thing Bryn had originally come to Skyrim for.

"I don't want her spending time around him."

"She wouldn't be unfaithful to you."

"No, but enough time around him and he might look good enough to leave me for."

"Now you're being ridiculous. Bryn loved you from the moment she saw you."

"It was simple infatuation."

"Well it isn't any more."

"Then why didn't she come back sooner!" Vilkas shouted, turning to his brother. "If she loves me so damn much then how was she able to stay away for so long? I've been going crazy here for the last five weeks and it hardly seems like it bothered her at all!"

"Because she's been busy, and you haven't. You did it to yourself." This twin glared furiously at him but didn't deny it. "You go acting like this when she comes back and you will make her start having second thoughts. That she even mentioned Balimund should tell you nothing's going on."

"Maybe she mentioned him just to make it seem that way."

"Okay, now you're giving me a headache. I'm leaving."

"Well what did your letter say?" Farkas handed it over to him without hesitation.

_ Dear Farkas,_

_ I hope I didn't worry anyone too much. I'm coming home a day or two after this courier reaches you, so I can tell you all the details in person then. I still can't believe it, but Jarl Laila made me a thane. I really wasn't looking for that to happen, but I suppose all the helping out I've done around here lately made it to her ears. It's flattering but now I feel obligated to help fix things in Riften, and that will take some time, more than I have right now, and I really miss everyone back home, especially you and Vilkas. _

_ I hope he isn't upset that it took so long to write, it's just that I've been so busy lately, one day running off to kill a dragon (or three!), the next helping the Llaniths at Merryfair Farm, and in between studying smithing with Balimund. I've learned so much from him! A few weeks ago he showed me how to craft jewelry. I never thought those big hands could do something so beautiful and delicate._

"Big hands," Vilkas said through gritted teeth, his blood boiling. All he could imagine was the two of them sitting close to each other, those big meaty paws brushing against Bryn's graceful fingers as he showed her something intricate, then the smith leaning in closer, and closer...

"Keep reading," Farkas demanded. "You're being an idiot."

"Whatever!"

_ It's funny but even though he's exactly what I came to Skyrim looking for, all I can think about is Vilkas. I hope he hasn't forgotten about me while I've been gone. I've spent a lot of time talking to the local priest of Mara, Maramal, about the nature of love, and maybe I'm just not meant for a normal life with a husband and children and a trade. Balimund is nice but rather boring. I'm actually a little worried that he's taken a liking to me, and believe me I've done absolutely nothing I can think of to warrant that, so I keep brushing off his offers of dinner and boat rides on the lake._

Vilkas closed his eyes for a moment, so close to tearing up the letter that it took all his willpower not to do so. Dinner and a boat ride on the lake…how very romantic. Certainly more romantic than a smelly burial mound or a bedroll next to a campfire.

"You must've just read the part about the boat rides," Farkas stated, unable to help finding this a little funny, though he knew better than to show it.

"I'm going to kill him," Vilkas vowed. "Why the hell doesn't she just tell him that she's spoken for?"

"Because she isn't."

"Yes she is. Just because we aren't married doesn't mean we aren't together. All she has to do is tell him she's seeing someone."

"Who? You aren't there to see, or be seen. She'll tell him that and you think he'll believe her? It would probably piss him off thinking she's lying. I would think she was. He's one of the best smiths in Skyrim. Only Eorlund is better, and maybe Oengul War-Anvil in Windhelm, but he doesn't provide training. He's too busy equipping Ulfric's war machine. Bryn needs Balimund's help if she wants to become a real smith."

"Then next time she goes to Riften, I go with her."

"And do what, stand behind her glowering at Balimund the whole time? I bet she'd love that."

"I'm not going to let some other man win her away from me!"

"Then don't go acting like a jealous ass when she gets back. I can see you doing that, Vilkas. You'll end up driving her away yourself, and then Balimund really will look good to her." He shook his head. "You're making everything too complicated, as usual. When she gets back, just go do something nice with her."

"Like what? You think I know what to do? How the hell would I know!"

Farkas rolled his eyes, saying, "I don't know. Take her out to the meadery. Go for a trip upriver to Lake Ilinalta for a few days. Use your imagination."

Trying to control himself, Vilkas continued reading the letter. He could feel himself starting to panic, and that wasn't good. He hadn't thought himself capable of it, but reading about Balimund had him in a state.

_ He's being awfully persistent, but not in an obnoxious way. I hope he gets the point soon, as I really don't want to upset him and take the chance of not receiving any more training, and it's been so long now that if I come out and tell him I'm seeing someone I'm afraid he'll think I made it up to make him back off. I wish I had said something sooner but I didn't realize what he was asking for until he already had a few times. And who knows, maybe Vilkas had second thoughts while I was gone and I need to leave that avenue open. I guess we'll see in a few days._

_ I really miss you, and everyone else back in Whiterun. Riften is nice, but it doesn't feel like home._

_ Love and kisses,_

_ Bryn_

Vilkas refolded the letter and handed it back to his brother, who said, "Don't make her think you've had second thoughts."

"How could she think that?"

"You were only together a few days, and things between you were awkward at best before that. Just give it some time." He nodded towards Vilkas' letter on the bed. "Did she mention second thoughts in yours?"

"No, but she worded things in such a way that…" He paused, not knowing how to put it, feeling wounded. "It was as if she was giving me an out. As if she was letting me know she would understand if I didn't still feel the same way about her by time she returned. She let me know that she loved me as much as ever and thinks about me all the time, but if things had changed for me she wouldn't make things hard."

Farkas grimaced and muttered, "That's rough."

"It wasn't in so many words, but…well, maybe again it was. It's obvious she has doubts."

"So remove the doubt."

"I'll try, but…" He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "I'm going to screw this up, Farkas. I can feel it," he said with anxiety. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"You're trying too hard. See, me, I'm just taking Lydia out for a nice dinner at the Bannered Mare, then back to Breezehome for a nice night of lovin'. Nothing complicated. No over-thinking it."

Vilkas frowned in confusion. "You're taking Lydia out to dinner? And spending the night with her?"

"Well, she doesn't know about the spending the night part, but she will soon enough." Farkas shrugged. "I really like her. We get along well. The sex is great. Everything is easy with her. I'm pretty sure that I'll ask her to marry me one of these days." Vilkas stared at him blankly. Seeing his twin's bewilderment, Farkas added in a guilty tone, "I probably should've mentioned that a little sooner, huh." Vilkas' expression turned to one of hurt, and he grabbed his brother's shoulders and said in a soothing tone, "Hey, it's not a big deal. I'll still be around all the time, and who knows, maybe she won't bite when I show up with that amulet on."

"Mara's mercy," Vilkas groaned, sinking down to the edge of this bed.

"It won't be for a while yet. Gotta give her time to get used to having me around, and I want us to be cured first. Plus she'll be taking off with Bryn now and then. Maybe one day when Bryn doesn't need her around all the time. You know we bunked together on the way home from High Hrothgar. Like you and Bryn did."

"Yes." Farkas had told him so not long after getting back.

"It just felt right. Waking up to her every morning, seeing her smile at me... She's really beautiful, even if she's kind of like one of the guys sometimes. I really like her. Being around her makes me happy."

His heart aching, Vilkas smiled at his twin and softly said, "That's all that really matters, isn't it."

"Should be all that matters." He grinned at his brother and said, "Gotta go. Have to see if Tilma can mend my good shirt, the blue one. Maybe put a few braids in my hair or something."

"That would look good."

Farkas left, closing the door behind him, and Vilkas sat there staring at the floor, feeling an almost painful love for his brother. He knew no finer man than Farkas. It would make him happy to see his brother married, with a litter of little ones around him, maybe working the Skyforge with Eorlund, learning the old man's trade. It seemed right, seemed inevitable even. Every time he thought about their old age, he saw his brother married with a family. And as for himself…all he ever saw was himself alone…sitting alone in Jorrvaskr, alone in Kodlak's chair. Alone. Always alone. That was still all he could see, maybe now more than ever. He would have been content with that before, but now that he had someone, or thought he still did, the fear wouldn't leave him that he would end up alone.

He resisted the urge to go talk to Kodlak about it, the old man having a bad day with the rot, the bad days coming more and more often. Kodlak spent every pain-free moment he had digging through the Companions' archives, trying to find some clue to a cure in a prior Harbinger's journal, having little luck. Vilkas wasn't about to bother the old man with his childish troubles. He had brought all this on himself by fixating on a Shield-Sister, and he would have to see it through on his own, since none of the other men here would be of any use in providing advice. Farkas had already told him to just marry Bryn and be done with it. Vignar disapproved and Vilkas wasn't about to provide the elder with an easy target. Skjor seemed to find the whole thing amusing and was still ribbing him about it, which was ironic considering everyone thought he was having an affair with Aela, though Vilkas knew otherwise; Aela had always taken female lovers that Vilkas was aware of, seeming to find the idea of making love with a man distasteful. He wasn't sure what the two were up to most nights, but it wasn't what everyone thought, he was sure of it. Probably hunting, but much more often than was necessary, and sometimes they were gone for days. Whatever they were up to, he was sure it was something Kodlak and himself would not approve of.

* * *

Lydia threw her napkin down on the table and sighed, "Now _that_ is what I call a meal." The chowder had been outstanding, perfectly seasoned and salted, with just the right amount of fish and potatoes and cream, everything in balance. The mead had been cold and the bread warm and soft, and her companion very easy on the eyes. Mikael had played quietly and kept his mouth shut, for once. It was perfect. Just perfect.

"No kidding. I'm stuffed."

"That's saying something."

"Mm-hm."

It was late and the only other people present were Jon Battle-Born and Olfina Gray-Mane, talking softly with their heads together at the table in the way back. The Bannered Mare was a safe haven for them late at night under Hulda's protection, and Lydia and Farkas were certainly not going to talk, Farkas giving the young couple a wink and a finger across his lips earlier. Lydia leaned close to Farkas and whispered, "They're going to have to tell their families soon."

He grimaced in dread. "The civil war's going to seem like nothing compared to that."

"We don't arrange marriages like those damn Altmer. Here in Skyrim love is all that matters, no matter how you find it."

"Yeah."

Lydia's mouth fell open slightly as Farkas ran his fingers across the top of her hand, lifting his eyes to hers. They were such a perfect light gray, the color of fine steel, almost silver, intense under thick black lashes. He smiled gently at her and she felt her heart do a little leap, equal parts surprise and delight. She smiled back hesitantly and lifted her other hand to run the tip of her finger across his moustache, and he quickly kissed her finger.

"I like you a lot, Lydia."

She laughed and laid her hand against his cheek, saying, "Farkas, Farkas…I think I like you too." How could she not? He was simply too fine a specimen of a man not to like.

"My brother is an idiot, you know."

"Yes, I do."

"No reason to go making things complicated, you know?"

"Yes, I know."

"When you find someone you really like who makes you happy every time they're around, that means something." Lydia nodded, a melting look in her dark blue eyes. She stroked his cheek with her thumb as he took her other hand in his, saying, "That's all I've gotta say about that, for now. I'm not my brother."

"Thank all the Nine Divines for that." Something sweet and easy…that was all she had ever wanted, and Farkas had always given her that. Vilkas though, he couldn't help but overthink everything, over-feel everything. Bryn had that tendency as well, and it would always make their relationship difficult. It hardly seemed worth it, and if Lydia had her way she would push Bryn in Balimund's direction in a heartbeat, but she had vowed to stay uninvolved in Bryn's personal matters. Now that it seemed she had them of her own, that would be more than enough to keep her busy.


	12. Chapter 12

The sound of a cart creaking up the road made Vilkas jump up from his seat on the wall around Honningbrew Meadery overlooking the crossroads. He felt his heart sink when it quickly became apparent that the wagon was empty. He jogged up to the driver and asked, "Have you seen anyone on the road lately? A young Nord woman, maybe, blond?"

Bjorlam shook his head. "No, can't say that I have. Especially if you're talking about the Dragonborn. I do know what she looks like, you know. I was the one who drove her to Riften a month or so ago. Haven't seen her since though."

"Right. Okay. Thanks."

"Sure thing. Say, it's getting dark out, Companion. Hop on up and I'll give you a lift as far as the stables."

"No, thank you. I appreciate the offer. I'll wait just a little longer."

"Suit yourself. Have a good evening."

"Likewise."

He sighed heavily and returned to his perch, deeply worried. Bryn had said she would be back within two days of the courier's letter, and it was evening of the second day. He had to admit that she had never said she was taking a wagon back. He wished that she had.

It was full dark out and the meadery closing up for the night when Vilkas decided to go back to Jorrvaskr and wait. He wasn't armored, though he did have his sword on his back, and while there were guards everywhere this close to town it never paid to wander around out here late at night unprepared. He hopped down off the wall to go left when he saw a flash of orange and red on the other side of the river, along with the distant rumble of thunder. The road was higher up there, and he saw something on fire fall into the river and heard a faint scream.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, going down to the crossroad to get a better look. The altercation had also caught the attention of the two guards passing on the main road on this side of the river.

"Hey Companion," one of the guards called. "Can you see what's going on up there?"

"No, you?"

"Not a thing. Probably just bandits again. Those bastards up at White River Watch, most likely."

The other guard said in derision, "None of those good-for-nothings can wield fire magic."

"Then they ran into something that can, dummy. Whatever it is, I'm not getting involved. My wife has dinner on the table and I'm making it home alive to eat it with my kids."

Both men looked expectantly at Vilkas, who barked, "Do I look like I'm dressed for it!" They shrugged and went back to their rounds, ignoring the distant sounds of battle, barely audible over the rush of the river.

"_FUS RO DAH!_"

Vilkas broke into a run as the sound thundered down the road, sending echoes off the surrounding mountains. He didn't bother to see if the guards followed, sprinting across the bridge. The yells and clash of metal on metal grew louder as he neared, and he came to his senses at the last moment and rolled to the side then flattened himself on the ground as a searing heat came boiling towards him.

"_YOL!_"

Another bandit screamed and began rolling on the ground, in flames, and Vilkas looked up just in time to see Bryn kick the man in the ribs then impale her sword in his back with a yell. She yanked it out with both hands then spun and decapitated the female bandit coming up behind her with a triumphant, "Ha!"

Vilkas stayed where he was, knowing that in the dark he would look like just another bandit, and as Bryn came toward him with her sword raised, breathing heavily, he called out in a shaking voice, "It's me, Vilkas!" For the first time in their acquaintance he was afraid of her, afraid of what she could do. He probably could have dispatched a group like this too, but he had been doing it for twenty-some years, and in the dark it might have resulted in him having to change to deal with it.

"Shit!" she cried out in dismay, letting her sword and shield clatter on the ground. "Are you trying to get killed! What are you doing out here!"

"Waiting for you, you damn crazy woman!" he retorted, climbing to his feet. "Why are you on this side of the river? Why didn't you take a carriage?"

"Because I'm an idiot," she hissed. "Short cuts are never short cuts!"

Vilkas approached her cautiously, and she knelt down to pick up her sword and wipe it on the fur armor of the decapitated bandit. She shoved it roughly into its sheath then began reaching around her back as if trying to grasp something, still panting, and when she fell forward on her hands with a whimpering cry he ran the rest of the way and fell to his knees at her side. "You're hurt," he said in a shaking voice.

"Arrow." She had hardly felt it when it hit her, too high on adrenaline to care. She felt it now though.

He clenched his hands, helpless, unable to see more in the dim light of the moons than the shaft sticking out of her shoulder. He could smell the blood though. So much blood. And meat. Fresh meat. The need to change and hunt hit him suddenly like a punch in the gut, making his vision waver as he fought to maintain control, his bones aching.

Bryn heard a gargling growl near her as Vilkas crawled away from in her an odd, scrambling movement, and she shook off the agony in her left shoulder to haul herself to her feet, barely able to do it. She looked for him and he was hunched over, away from the bodies, his hands over his head as he rocked, groaning.

Hearing Bryn approach, he cried, "Stay away!"

"Is it…is it…your wolf?" He didn't answer, but she stayed away from him, actually frightened of him. Or for him, rather. The guards weren't that far away, on the other side of the river, but at least it was dark and they wouldn't be able to see, and the rush of the river drowned out all but the loudest noises. Bryn could smell the blood, so it was a given Vilkas could, though she wasn't altogether sure how strong his senses were while in human form. They hadn't talked at all about his nature while they were together, as he seemed embarrassed by it, disgusted by it even. Now she wished that they had. Farkas had made it seem like it didn't bother him much, but he had said that Vilkas had more trouble controlling his beast than the others. He was going to have to talk about it after this, if she didn't bleed to death first. She couldn't heal herself while the arrow was there. She had done that once a few weeks ago and had ended up going to the Temple of Mara to have it cut out of her leg, the wound healing around the arrowhead; she had naively assumed it would just fall out when she healed. But if she didn't do it she might pass out from blood loss, and she couldn't trust Vilkas' control. It was horrifying to think of what he might do if he got close enough to her, or the bodies. Farkas swore that neither he nor his brother had touched human flesh since they were new to the Blood and their control poor, but it had been so long since Vilkas had changed that he might feel driven to it now. Gritting her teeth, Bryn began healing herself.

"What are you doing!" Vilkas choked, staring at her in horror as the golden glow enveloped her body.

"What I have to do. Go hunt."

"No no no, I can't," he whined. "You don't understand love, I can't let it get the better of me, gods I can't do it, don't tell me to do it!"

The sound of a soft sob broke her heart, and she held her hand out and gently said, "Give me your sword and clothes. I saw some goats up the road." _Love_. He had never called her that before. He still loved her. Well of course he did if he was out here waiting for her to come home.

"No…please…"

"I need your help, Vilkas, and you can't help me the way you are. Change and hunt, then come back. You have to help me, and you can't right now." It wasn't a complete lie. She could make it back to Whiterun on her own, eventually, now that the blood loss had slowed, though each movement of hers grated iron on bone and sent a fresh trickle down her back. But she couldn't take him back to Whiterun in this state; he would be a danger to himself and everyone around him.

The change pressed hard beneath his skin, impossible to resist, and he began stripping off his clothes and growled, "Don't look at me." Bryn turned away and walked slowly to a boulder to sit, nearly radiating pain. Sick with guilt and self-loathing, Vilkas threw his clothes and sword on the ground then let the change come over him. An almost sexual pleasure sang through him as his first transformation in months stretched and warped his body into something monstrous. When it was done he shook himself and looked at Bryn, trying not to see wounded prey, keeping hold of his humanity and his mind as best he could. When he realized she had watched the entire process he snarled furiously and shook his head at her. He had told her not to look!

Bryn forced herself to stare at the creature and keep her expression calm. In the faint moonlight she could see how huge he was, a good seven feet tall, massive, his breathing heavy and wet-sounding. Terrifying, or he would have been terrifying to her five weeks ago. He snarled again at her inspection and she calmly stated, "Are you really so terrible, beloved? Remember, I am a dragon, but you are just a wolf. Even wounded I'm not afraid of you." She pointed up the road, up the mountainside. "Go, find the goats. Hunt." Vilkas whined then it lengthened into a howl as he lifted his head to the moons, then he took off at a loping run and was gone.

She sighed and stayed where she was, unable to summon up the strength to take her pack off to get a drink, and she realized she wouldn't be able to anyway with the arrow's shaft in the way. The pain was dulled but still torture, the head of the arrow scraping against her shoulder blade, which it was caught under, and all she could do was close her eyes and curse the useless guards on the road below, who had gone back to their rounds as if nothing had happened, their torches bobbing along in the dark. She supposed it was flattering that they assumed she and Vilkas had everything under control. Poor Vilkas...he had been out here waiting anxiously for her to come home, wanting only to see her, even after all this time apart, and he ended up having to do this. It made her want to start bawling. She knew exactly what he was going to end up thinking: that he had abandoned his wounded love because he couldn't control himself. He was going to suffer horribly over this, and she didn't know how to make it better for him. She didn't find what he was frightening or disgusting. She wished it wasn't there, but it was, for now. She would have to check in with Kodlak tomorrow to see if he was any closer to finding a cure.

The sound of a distant howl broke her out of her reverie, and somehow she knew it was him. When wild wolves answered a few seconds later she could hear the difference, could almost hear the torment in it. Several minutes later she saw a pale body running up the road then it slowed as it neared her, hesitating, then he ran past her and quickly began pulling on his clothes, his back to her. "Feel better?" she asked after a minute.

"I don't want to talk about it!" he choked.

"We're going to have to."

"Why! What is the point?"

"I want to understand it."

"There is no understanding it," he said angrily as he turned on her, slinging the sword onto his back. "It is disgusting, a perversion of nature, something abominable. _I_ am abominable."

"I don't think I would love someone who was abominable." She heard his heavy breathing stop short then he groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. She sighed, seeing she had her work with him cut out for her, and sucked in her breath as she pushed herself off the boulder.

Vilkas made a sound of dismay at her cry of pain and ran to her, taking her right arm in his and putting his left around her back. "Stupid fool of a woman," he muttered anxiously.

"Yes, I am."

"Tell me about it when you're better, just...don't talk." He could feel warm wetness seeping into his shirt and the urge to start weeping was almost more than he could resist. What a complete and utter disaster this had been, when all he had wanted was to be the first to see her come home. He had imagined all sorts of greetings but nothing like this. He hadn't wanted the first time she said she loved him to be an attempt to comfort him over his self-disgust. He went on in worried aggravation, "All your fighting dragons and poking around crypts, and you get shot in the back by a lousy flea-bitten bandit five minutes before you get home!" She didn't answer, and he kissed her temple roughly then exclaimed, "Shor's bones, you aren't even wearing a fucking helmet! Are you insane? Do you actually _want_ to die?"

"Makes my head too hot. Uh, I need my shield though."

"No you don't. Someone can get it in the morning."

"But—"

Vilkas hissed at her and she fell silent. "I'm telling you right now, no more running off alone. You're not leaving my sight without at least Lydia at your back. This never would have happened if you had someone with you."

"Not the first time-"

"Gods, don't tell me or I'm going to kill you for being an idiot. You drive me insane, damn you. Five weeks I've been going crazy here without a word from you, and you show up on my doorstep with a goddamn arrow in your back. Never again. I swear I'll tie you up and stuff you in a barrel before you do this to me again." He growled furiously as they approached the bridge. "And that business with Balimund. I'll break every finger on those big hands of his if he so much as touches you. If he even _looks_ at you with lust in his eyes. I won't stand for it." He felt Bryn weakly squeeze his hand, and he squeezed back then kissed her temple again, more gently this time. She stumbled slightly as they crossed the bridge and he whispered, "Just a bit farther, love." The amount of wetness he was feeling on his arm was frightening, and he feared the wound had reopened around the arrowhead.

They were passing the meadery and Bryn was stumbling again when a guard finally came near, and Vilkas called to him, "You there, get that torch over here! She's wounded."

The guardsman came running, saying, "Damn it all, we should've gone up and helped, orders or not." The Jarl would have their heads if the Dragonborn died because they weren't smart enough to ignore orders when it was warranted. They'd assumed the two warriors could handle whatever was up there though.

"It was already too late. I didn't get there in time either."

"Ugh, wolves too eh? I heard the howling. You smell like a wet dog."

"Yes, wolves too." He stopped Bryn and motioned the guard over, and when the torchlight shone on her back he had to bite his lip from moaning with grief. Blood was welling up around the shaft, buried beneath her left shoulder blade. Her leather armor had been no protection at all, and the entire back of it was soaked, as was the arm of his shirt. The only positive was that no air was bubbling out, so it hadn't gotten as deep as the lung. Not yet anyway. Not taking his eyes off the wound, he whispered fiercely to the guard, "I need Danica. Hurry." The guard took off at a sprint with the torch, leaving them in dim moonlight again. Vilkas gently lowered Bryn to sit on the ground, demanding, "Heal yourself again. Just a little bit." Bryn raised her hand limply, and the magic sputtered then flared to life for a moment before dying again. Her hand fell into her lap and she stared straight ahead, and Vilkas bit back an obscenity and pulled out a knife to cut her pack loose. He clenched his jaw as the thing thudded on the ground, weighing a good seventy or eighty pounds. "What the hell do you have in there, rocks?" he exclaimed. He never would have let her carry it at all if he had known how much it weighed.

Bryn mumbled, "Dragon scales. Bones. Some ore I dug up. Some presents."

"Gods, don't talk, I'm sorry," he said tremulously. He sat next to her, holding her hand, unable to believe that she was dying. After everything she had been through he refused to believe that a rusty iron arrow would be the thing that did her in. He petted her hair with his other hand, shaking, and stated, "I'm going to stay with you and take care of you. I'm not leaving your side until you're better."

"Just have to get the arrow out, and I'll be right as rain."

"You…gods Bryn, you've lost a lot of blood. Even after you're healed you'll need to rest to replenish it." There wasn't a potion or healing spell that could fix that all the way; only time would.

"Should've taken the wagon. Shortcuts are never shortcuts, Vilkas honey. Can I call you that?"

"You can call me anything you want, damn it," he whispered, tears pricking his eyes.

"My house in Riften is called Honeyside. There's an island in Lake Honrich and a place called Goldenglow Estate where they raise the bees that make the honey for Black-Briar mead. I find beehives sometimes, in the woods. I Shout Kyne's Peace at them and they let me take their honeycombs. Just a little bit. I like that Shout the best. I petted a bear once after I used it. Gods, he stank though."

"Shhh."

"I really missed you," she whispered. "Every day."

"I missed you too," he choked. "Every day."

"I'm thirsty."

Vilkas cursed and let go of her to dig a canteen out of her pack, wishing he could see in the dark like the khajit. The canteen was buried under a ridiculous amount of bones and scales, and he had to ignore a spark of curiosity about them for the moment. He held the canteen for her to help her drink, completely flustered. He should have known she would need water. He was so worried he couldn't think straight. Bryn stayed blessedly silent after that, Vilkas' arm around her as they waited an ungodly amount of time for the priestess to appear, the minutes dragging by endlessly.

When Danica finally arrived she had Lydia trailing behind her, and the housecarl sprinted past the healer to fall on her knees in front of Bryn, crying, "Damn you, why did you leave me behind!"

Bryn didn't answer, leaning against Vilkas, who stated, "It won't happen again."

The guard jogged up with a torch and the priestess, and Lydia stared into Vilkas' pale, unsettling eyes for a few seconds before nodding and looking away. "No, it won't," she agreed. His eyes were red, shining with unshed tears. Yes, she supposed he did love Bryn, still. If he hadn't been out there waiting for her, hadn't heard her Shout, she might not have made it back to Whiterun. That he had been waiting out here alone in the dark was proof enough of his devotion, and she wouldn't trouble him about it ever again. Lydia had been waiting too, but on Breezehome's doorstep, alternately worrying about Bryn and thinking about Farkas. Farkas was the furthest thing from her mind right now.

Vilkas moved away enough to give the healer room, and Danica sank to her knees, waving over the guard to shine his torch on Bryn's back. She pointed to Vilkas, saying, "Hold her. Don't let her move while I'm working." He nodded, looking pale. She pointed at Lydia. "I need water. Refill her canteen." Lydia ran to do so. While the housecarl was gone to the stream, Danica pushed up her sleeves and pulled out a set of knives, first using a steel one to cut away the thick armor from the wound. The healer's hands were deft but it was impossible not to cause pain while working.

Vilkas squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in Bryn's hair, holding her tightly as she whimpered while the armor was cut away, and when Danica switched to a thin obsidian blade to remove the arrowhead he had to give in to tears and weep silently with his beloved as she sobbed in agony, grabbing the front of his shirt tightly, her body stiff.

"Ah, there we go."

Vilkas lifted his head, sniffing, and watched as the priestess tossed the arrow aside then rinsed the wound and inspected it. She nodded in satisfaction and laid her hands on Bryn's bare back, and he felt residual warmth touch him as powerful healing magic spread through Bryn's body. He felt her go limp in relief as her hands fell away, and he held her to him and whispered to the priestess in a shaking voice, "All better, right?"

"Oh, yes," Danica said confidently, holding out her hands for Lydia to rinse, the housecarl having acted as her assistant. Better the girl trying to help than the Companion, who was clearly a wreck. "I've seen this before, where the wound was magically healed around an arrowhead. If she hadn't healed as much as she had she would be dying, but then if she had kept on healing herself on the way back here the extreme blood loss wouldn't have happened, and I still would have had to cut the arrow out regardless. Lesson learned for her, I think."

"It won't happen again," Lydia assured her, and more importantly Vilkas. She glanced at him then away again to avoid embarrassing him. She had never thought she would live long enough to see Vilkas of the Companions crying. Lydia hadn't shed a tear, confident in Bryn's constitution, and more importantly her destiny. The gods wouldn't put her down here only to let her get finished off by bandits. Also, Danica was a Master of the Restoration arts, probably the most talented in Skyrim, and such a wound was well within her capabilities. It had been awful to hear Bryn crying in pain though. That had nearly gotten to her. She stood with the healer and asked, "Anything we should do from here?"

"Her body will need to regenerate the blood it lost. Absolutely no exertion of any kind for the next several days. _Any_ kind," she repeated, looking flatly at Vilkas, who made a sound of offense. The guard behind Danica snickered then fell silent as the Companion glared coldly at him. "Make sure she gets plenty of red meat and dark greens. No mead or ale or any other kind of alcohol, just a great deal of water. She'll be fine by Middas." She looked down at Vilkas, still tenderly holding the unconscious girl, and smiled serenely at the lovers. It was a sweet scene, if messy. "Kynareth's blessing on you both."

"And you, Healer," Vilkas replied quietly, not looking up at her. "I will bring a donation by the temple tomorrow."

"That would be much appreciated, Companion." She raised her chin and nodded at the guard. "As would an escort back to town."

"Yes ma'am," the guard said with a nod. As the priestess walked away, he said to Vilkas, "Hey, you need anything, you let me or the wife know, all right? I still feel bad about all this."

"There was nothing anyone could have done, and as you said, you have a wife and family to go home to. But thank you."

"Aye."

Vilkas held Bryn a moment longer, feeling numb, and when Lydia squatted down behind Bryn to look him in the eyes he narrowed his own at her. She dropped her gaze and started going through Bryn's pack. He said, "I meant it. I'm staying with her until she recovers."

"As you wish," Lydia replied quietly. "You'll get no grief from me." He grunted in acknowledgment. "If I hadn't angered her with my behavior, she might have let me go with her. This is my fault as much as it is anyone's."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"I would. Anyway, she doesn't leave the city walls from now on without backup. Me, you, Farkas, doesn't matter."

"Agreed."

"I was wrong about you, and I admit that." He was silent, and she left it at that, both of them finding the conversation uncomfortable. "Is she awake?"

"I don't think so." He shifted, his knees aching from kneeling on the hard-packed dirt of the road. "She passed out once the pain stopped. I don't want to wake her, but we can't stay out here. I'll carry her as far as I can, but...she isn't a dainty girl." She was slender still, but she had put on additional muscle weight during her time in The Rift, and she was tall, the tallest Nord woman he had ever seen due to her Altmeri blood. He wouldn't be able to carry her far.

"Hold that thought," Lydia said, standing as she eyed the Pelagia farm nearby. "I'm sure Severio won't mind us borrowing his vegetable cart for a bit."

Vilkas laughed shortly. "Doesn't matter if he minds or not." Lydia nodded and strode away to fetch the empty cart. Vilkas changed position to get off his knees, easing Bryn into the curve of his left arm. Her face was terribly pale in the moonlight, the limpness in her frightening still no matter the healer's words. He put his fingers to the side of her neck and felt her pulse there, slow and steady but not as strong as it should be. Brushing her fair hair back from her forehead, he whispered, "I failed you, love. And Kodlak. Damn stupid beast is what I am." Bryn wasn't troubled by his nature, but he was. He wondered if Farkas was going to tell Lydia about it and quickly decided that no, he probably would not. Any person in their right mind would be revolted by it. Not that Bryn wasn't in her right mind, but she wasn't a normal person either.

Between the two of them they quickly got Bryn loaded into the cart and trundled up to Whiterun's gates, and luckily not fielding a million questions from the guards they passed; they all had been filled in by the guard who had returned Danica. The citizens inside looked on with concern, also aware, some offering to help in any way they could. They hadn't seen the Dragonborn in over a month, _their_ Dragonborn, who surely belonged to Whiterun more than any other hold. Amren was there, and Vilkas asked him to return the cart in the morning, which he readily agreed to.

Bryn started to awaken as Vilkas and Lydia were awkwardly hauling her up the stairs, mumbling in confusion, "What…what are you doing to me?"

"Putting you to bed, my thane," Lydia answered, holding her legs, with Vilkas holding her under her arms. Bryn blinked, trying to clear her vision, then she tried to turn to see who was carrying her. "Please don't move. Vilkas and I will take care of everything, my lady."

"Poor Vilkas."

"He'll be fine."

"I left my shield. Up on the road."

"I'll send Farkas up there in the morning to get it, I promise."

"I think my armor is ruined."

"I think so," Lydia agreed. "You'll just have to make a new set."

"And no leather," Vilkas said in aggravation. "Scaled armor at the least, or you're never leaving here again."

"Scales…where's my pack?"

"Be quiet," he scolded as they got her into her room.

Lydia said, "I left it downstairs, my thane. I'll put them with the others in the chest downstairs. Now please, hush."

Vilkas held Bryn up under her arms as Lydia eased her out of her boots and pants, and once those were off they set her on the edge of the bed and Vilkas undid the buckles of her cuirass while Lydia went for warm water. Bryn rubbed her eyes, whispering, "I'm so tired, I can't think straight."

"That's all right, love," Vilkas said quietly. In the light of the lanterns her pallor was apparent, dark circles under her eyes like bruises. She closed her eyes and sat limply, like a little child, as Vilkas got her completely undressed. The sight of crusted blood on her back made him shiver, and there was a slight scar there from the closing and reopening of the wound over and over. He pulled off his own shirt and threw it on the floor, unable to stand her blood all over it; it had started to dry to his arm and he had to peel it off.

"I'm so stupid," she whispered. "What was I thinking?"

"That you're the damned Dragonborn and totally invincible," he retorted.

"I think I did, a little bit." She snorted a laugh. "Taken down a notch by common bandits."

"Better that than something worse, farther from help. If I hadn't heard you Shout…"

Bryn stayed silent as he kissed her forehead, having enough sense not to tell him that she would have healed herself more completely and gotten home sooner and in better shape if he hadn't been there, if his beast hadn't gotten the better of him, if he hadn't been so horrified by her healing the arrowhead into her. She would have been better off all around if he hadn't been there, and there was no way she would ever tell him that. Maybe with enough time and a calm head he would realize it on his own. She hoped not; he was already going to torment himself enough as it was.

Lydia came back upstairs with warm water and a plate of food, and they soon got Bryn washed, fed and put into nightclothes under the covers. Lydia gathered up the ruined armor and shirt and took it all downstairs as Vilkas petted Bryn's hair and said, "I have to go to Jorrvaskr, for just a little bit. To let them know what happened and where I'll be for the next few days." And to get something to wear. His shirt was ruined and his pants were filthy as well.

"All right," she said sleepily, unable to keep her eyes open. It felt so good to be in her warm, soft bed, with a full belly and no pain, with her beloved's hand on her head. She felt herself sliding into sleep before he was down the stairs.


	13. Chapter 13

A whimper and the shaking of the bed woke Vilkas from his own restless sleep, and he sat up on his elbow and rubbed his eyes, seeing it was morning already. He looked down at Bryn and her face was crumpled into an expression of fear or sorrow, her eyes moving back and forth rapidly beneath their lids. She muttered something he didn't understand, something in Altmeris, and the sound of her speaking it was deeply unsettling. She had never spoken a word of it around him but had told him during their trek through Shroud Hearth Barrow that she had known only the High Elven tongue and script until she was seven, when her aunt had finally insisted she learn human speech and writing, against her uncle's wishes.

When she whimpered again he shook her shoulder gently, and she thrashed and flailed her arms, hitting him away as she cried, "_FAAS!_" Vilkas gasped as a wave of pure terror washed over and through him, then was gone as suddenly as it appeared, leaving him sweating. She stared at him in confusion, and she blinked as he patted her cheek and whispered, "It's me, it's all right."

"Vilkas." He nodded and petted her hair, and she reached up to touch the back of her head then looked at her hand, expecting to see blood there. She closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath. "I thought you were Yancarro."

"Ugh."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's all right. At least it wasn't…what is it, _yol?_" She laughed quietly, her cheeks pink. "What was that?"

"_Faas_. Fear."

He shivered then lay down again. "Yes it was. So strange, like a stab of terror, then it was gone."

"It works well on a large group of bandits, at least the low-ranking ones. It only lasts about half a minute and they always come running back, but it's given me enough time to take out the tougher ones first." She closed her eyes, still feeling tired, and soon felt Vilkas' hand on her hair, petting it. She opened her eyes to gaze at him and smiled as she put her hand on his cheek, feeling the roughness of overnight growth. She whispered, "I'm so sorry about last night. What you had to do."

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Please, I don't want to talk about it."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, any more than what I am."

"What you are was not by your choice, and even if it was, it's a noble thing. I did this to myself, and Farkas followed my lead, and now we're trapped in it, always fighting the urges, never getting a decent night's sleep, always fearing getting caught, and for what? And now he's seeing Lydia and has to hide what he is from her. If anyone can pull it off it is him, but he shouldn't have to. It shouldn't be there." Bryn stared at him in confusion, and he smiled slightly, glad to talk about something happy. "Ah, I forget you didn't know that, did you."

"But…when?"

"Only since…what, two days ago? I think he took a shine to her on the way back from Ivarstead. They shared a bedroll and he decided he 'really liked her'." Bryn burst into laughter as he mimicked his brother's voice, making him laugh as well. He lowered his voice to a whisper and added, "He told me he intends to marry her."

"Really!" she replied just as softly, amazed. There was no telling where the housecarl was at the moment, the house silent. Bryn couldn't imagine either of her best friends married, but the idea of them married to each other was absolutely wonderful.

"He took her on a date to the Bannered Mare two nights ago. Said it was very romantic, though who knows what he considers romantic, but Lydia seemed happy the next day, hanging around him, making eyes at him like a young girl. It was sweet, hearing him explain why he 'likes her' so much. I always wanted that for him."

Bryn nodded, feeling a pang of grief. She had to resist the urge to ask Vilkas what he had always wanted for himself. She was afraid she already knew, and it hadn't included a wife and family. "So, when is this going to happen?"

"Oh, not for a while, I think. He said Lydia will be traveling with you pretty often, and he wanted to wait until you don't need her quite as much, and he wants to be cured." He shook his head. "I don't know when that would be, but it's what he wants."

"That's….really nice." So Farkas had decided Lydia was the one for him after sleeping together a whole two nights, wanted to marry her just because he liked her a lot. That sounded like him. And yet here she was nearly dying last night, seeing Vilkas change into a werewolf, having slept with him a good half a dozen times at least, having him call her love last night, and she knew he would never ask her to marry him. The more time she had spent in Mara's temple, the more she had talked to Maramal about the nature of love and marriage, the more she had come to change her mind about marriage not being what she wanted. She knew being married wasn't really for her, not right now, not with as much as she traveled, but she wanted someone to _want_ to marry her. She wanted Vilkas to want to marry her. Balimund would, she was sure of it. He had been so persistent in his date requests that by time she left she had feared he would show up at the forge one day with an Amulet of Mara on. Before losing her virginity to Vilkas, she would have jumped at what he offered.

When she said nothing more and her expression turned sorrowful, Vilkas changed the subject. It wasn't as if he couldn't figure out what she was thinking. He asked solicitously, "Are you hungry, love? Thirsty?"

"A little of both."

"I'll be right back."

_Love_. At least he was still calling her that. And who knew, maybe he had guessed what she was thinking and was trying to reassure her. Even if marriage wasn't on his mind, at least he did love her. He was fetching her breakfast, waiting on her, and had spent all night with her to watch over her. He loved her dearly, more than Farkas loved Lydia that was for certain, and yet… She heard him talking to someone downstairs and heard Lydia's voice in answer then the clink of the cooking pot. It was nice they were getting along. After all, Vilkas knew Lydia would be his sister-in-law someday. Bryn thought she might give the couple Breezehome as a wedding gift. The thought warmed her as she hauled herself upright in bed, weak and tired. Yes, she would definitely give them Breezehome. A married couple should have their own home, a place to bear and raise their babies, and they certainly couldn't do so in Jorrvaskr.

After breakfast Bryn harassed Vilkas into letting her go downstairs, not about to spend all day in bed. Once they were down there and she was seated by the fire, she smiled at Lydia and after a brief hesitation her housecarl smiled back. Things were right between them again, though she felt they should talk about it now that some distance was there, once they had the privacy to do so. She asked Lydia, "How many bones and scales do you think we have now?"

"I'd say about a dozen scales, and eight or nine bones," she answered. She looked at Vilkas, who was hovering behind Bryn like a bodyguard. "You haven't seen them yet, have you?"

"No, but I would like to," he answered. She went to fetch them from the locked chest. He said to Bryn in a tone of disquiet, "You know, I saw one. The day you left for Riften. Flying around the mountains across the White River, then it headed southeast. No one else saw it and I didn't say anything to anyone, afraid of being accused of having an overactive imagination."

"I wonder if it's one of those that I ended up killing," she said thoughtfully.

"Perhaps. I think I have killed one of everything in Skyrim, and have even considered traveling to Morrowind for new challenges, but the thought of facing a dragon isn't an easy one."

"It isn't for me yet either. My only consolation is always getting the first hit in. I've started using poison on my arrows and it works well. Sometimes frostbite venom, especially from the big mother spiders. I ended up using those three Dwarven arrows on the Lost Tongue Overlook dragon. It was huge, the biggest one I've seen yet, and a strange white color." She pulled her feet up onto the chair, tucking the blanket more tightly around her. "I wish I could understand what they're saying when they speak to me in their language. It seems I should have some instinctual ability to understand their tongue but I don't. The Greybeards say that each word wall is a memorial, that all those runes are a statement in the dragon tongue, but I can't read any of it."

"That is fascinating," he murmured. "Perhaps one day you can study the language with them." He came around to sit in the other chair so he could see Bryn's face. Lydia came out with a scale and a bone and handed them to Vilkas, who turned them over in his hands to inspect them, his eyes wide. "They're so heavy for their size," he stated in amazement as he hefted them. The scale wasn't much larger than the palms of both hands put together, yet it had to weigh a good ten pounds. It was a dull brownish-gray, the bone light tan. "You find these each time one dies? This is all that is left of such a huge creature?"

"One or two bones and two or three scales, usually. The skull too, but that's so big who wants to lug that around? I wish I had kept the very first one though. It didn't occur to me to save anything from Mirmulnir. Oh, and...there are usually, um, remains. Of whatever or whoever the dragon recently ate. Usually arms and armor, some gold."

"Ugh," he said in disgust.

"The dragon looks like it burst into flames when it first dies, but there's no heat. It seems to just crumble away, and whatever color there was to the scales strips away as well, which is kind of a shame. They're beautiful, really, all different colors. I'm able to sneak up on them and watch them for a while, as they sleep. I think they must spend most of their time sleeping, or at least the three that were guarding the word walls were." She had felt bad about killing each one, but that hadn't lasted past finding the human remains. She had also come to the conclusion that they were guarding the word walls from her, that perhaps Alduin had ordered them there, in an attempt to keep her from growing more powerful. It was the only explanation that made sense for why they lingered there.

He ran his hand over the scale and asked, "So that smith thinks these are workable then?"

She shook her head at him and said, "'That smith' tested a piece and it was malleable when heated to a high enough temperature. He thinks it has a high metallic content, but it's beyond either of us how to work it. I wanted to show them to Eorlund and see what he thinks. If anyone would be able to figure it out, he could."

"I would like to see a dragon up close one of these days," he said fervently, handing the bone and scale back to Lydia. He couldn't believe he had actually gotten to touch a piece of what used to be a living dragon.

"Well, I do still need to go to Mount Anthor, and—Oh, Lydia, could you bring me my pack? The oddest thing happened to me my first day in Riften." Lydia put the bone and scale back and returned with the pack. Bryn dug through the outer pockets for her journal and took out the letter from her unknown 'friend'. She handed it to Vilkas to read, who then handed it to Lydia. "Who could it be? A courier gave it to me. How could anyone who would send something like that know that I shouted in Ivarstead, and how would they know I would be in Riften at that time? And why would they hide who they are? It's the most bizarre thing."

Vilkas asked warily, "Do you think it's a trap?"

"I don't see why it would be. I did some research and Kilkreath Ruins are beneath the shrine to Meridia. Isn't she a benevolent daedra?"

"She isn't malevolent, let's put it that way. Daedra are never to be trusted."

"There must be a word wall somewhere in or near the ruins. The shrine isn't far from Solitude. I'd like to visit there one of these days."

Vilkas wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Not to join the Legion, I hope." He had nothing against the Legion, or the Empire, and he also saw the merit in Ulfric Stormcloak's rebellion, but he could also see that the civil war was a waste, of lives and resources. The thought of Bryn declaring for either side and getting caught up in a war was horrid.

"Absolutely not," she stated. "I'm not joining either side. I'm not going to help Nords kill each other. Both sides have their points, and I'll be damned if I let either side use me against the other. It should be the Thalmor they're fighting against. The more Skyrim fights, the weaker it gets, and that can only benefit them."

"Aye, that is very true," he said quietly, not used to seeing this side of her. Her eyes glowed as she stared into the fire, her expression set in stone.

"I grew up having to listen to that Elven superiority crap from my cousin and uncle. If they're so superior, why was Hammerfell able to drive them out? How were humans able to free themselves from the Ayleids, how were humans able to form the Empire and subjugate the Elven nations? No, they're cunning, and have the luxury of taking the long view due to their life spans, but they are _not_ superior. I can only pray to Talos that I one day have the chance to prove that to them, and my cousin."

Vilkas said nothing, looking dumbfounded, and Lydia proudly stated, "You will, my lady. Talos wills it. As he was Dragonborn and Stormcrowned, so are you."

"I suppose," she sighed, suddenly deflating. "I can't even avoid an arrow in the back, and the leg before that."

Vilkas covered his eyes and muttered, "Ack, don't tell me. I told you last night not to tell me."

"It will _not_ happen again," Lydia vowed. "From now on there will always be someone at your back, my thane. Namely me." Bryn beamed at her, her golden eyes shining, and she smiled back in relief. The sweetness was still there. "When you've recovered and made a new set of armor, we'll set off for Mount Anthor, then Kilkreath Ruins after that, slaying every dragon we see, and we'll make your _thu'um_ so mighty that dragons and Thalmor alike will tremble before it."

"Yes, we shall."

Lydia glanced at Vilkas, who was watching the two women with narrowed eyes, and she smirked as she said, "I heard you get a taste of it a little bit ago."

He snorted in disdain and stated, "It rolled off me like water off a horker's back. I felt it, but it didn't affect me one bit."

Bryn said, "You're probably much too experienced for it to work on you. I've really only had success with it on weaker bandits. And good grief, it would have been horrible if it had worked."

"And funny," Lydia added, making Bryn giggle.

Vilkas hauled himself out of his seat, saying, "All right, I'm not going to sit here and be a target for mean girls like little Lars Battle-Born." Both women laughed, and he didn't mind. It was a good sound. "I'm going to take a donation to the Temple of Kynareth and see if Farkas wants to come back with me for a visit."

"That sounds nice," Bryn stated, lifting an eyebrow as she eyed Lydia, who blushed and bit her lip. "Lydia, please give him something to take. He shouldn't have to pay for my stupidity." Vilkas didn't argue; his pockets weren't as deep as Bryn's, though now that she had two households to maintain she wasn't going to have quite the excess coin she used to. Now that she felt like a competent smith she could start crafting items from the extra ore and leather she had stored away and sell it off to Ulfberth War-Bear at Warmaiden's, or Belethor.

The second the door closed behind Vilkas, Bryn exclaimed, "You naughty thing, did you two go for a romp in my bed? I know he spent the night here, and your bed is too small!" Lydia put her hands over her mouth in shock then broke into peals of laughter. "You did! Merciful Mara, that's so wonderful! Oh, he's such a sweet man, Lydia. Good for you."

"My thane, I swear, we changed the bedding before you came back!"

Bryn laughed hysterically then said, "You knew I wouldn't mind."

"Yes, I knew, but still, it's…well, I can't be sorry."

"I wouldn't be. So tell me, what happened? What changed?"

Lydia sat in the other seat and leaned towards her, saying excitedly, "It was all so unexpected. I mean, who would think Farkas capable of it? We did bunk together on the way home from Ivarstead. I didn't intend to, I was just so mad at his brother. All I could think was that he knew what he was doing."

Bryn's smile faded. "He didn't Lydia, I swear. When he found out I was a virgin afterward he was horrified. He was absolutely furious with me for not telling him, and even angrier that my first time ended up being there of all places, but it was so perfect. I can't even begin to tell you how perfect. He was so sweet and gentle, and he wouldn't have been any more so if he had known I was a virgin. It was… oh, it was so wonderful, and every time after that too. He's just…" She sighed happily then pouted. "And now I'm recuperating and my cycle is due in a few days."

Lydia said in a conspiratorial tone, "You know what, forget what Danica said. You seem okay for what you went through, and the worst that will happen is you'll get tired or dizzy. Big deal. I'll go stay up at The Bannered Mare tonight." She wiggled her eyebrows. "And not alone, I tell you."

"That sounds nice, but what if Vilkas won't…you know, do it?"

She rolled her eyes and said in a flat tone, "Right. He's a man. All honor and logic go out the window when the little warrior is in charge." Bryn turned red but broke into fresh laughter. Lydia laughed as well then reached out and grabbed Bryn's hand. Her lady gave it a squeeze and she said, "I missed you. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, none of that. I'm sorry too. I let my pride get the better of me. It won't happen again."

"It better not. You worried everyone sick. I almost left half a dozen times to go to Riften after you, and Vilkas…" She shook her head. "That man drove everyone up in Jorrvaskr crazy, Farkas says. I shouldn't have doubted him, and after last night…well, I won't ever again." She hesitated then added, "Don't tell him I told you, don't _ever_ let him know I told you, but…he wept last night. When the healer was working on your back. I never thought I would see the day that a Companion cried."

"Oh no," Bryn whispered. Her poor beloved. She couldn't imagine how distraught he must have been to give in to tears. She was sure that his distress over having to shapeshift hadn't helped.

"I knew you wouldn't die," she continued, giving the other woman's hand a squeeze then letting go. "He obviously didn't know that, but I did. Still, it erased any lingering doubt I might have had. I would be careful though, my thane, about letting him go on any further adventures with you unless it's something easy. He could be a liability. Get in your way, thinking he's protecting you, and end up putting you both in danger."

"I hadn't considered that."

"He's a seasoned warrior, one of the greatest of his generation, known throughout Skyrim, but a man in love doesn't think clearly."

"No, I suppose he doesn't." It was disappointing. She had been looking forward to traveling with him now and then. Maybe he could go with her next time she went to Riften. That should be safe, and maybe seeing the Temple of Mara there would get him to thinking about their future. She didn't really feel right taking Lydia there, and she didn't want to make Iona feel awkward either. Hopefully he wouldn't make things difficult for Balimund; it wasn't the smith's fault that he thought her available. She still hadn't learned everything she could from him, though he'd had to really dredge up some obscure knowledge to pass on to her. She was really interested in the notion of glass smithing; though light, the armor was extremely tough. Unfortunately the malachite and moonstone needed to craft it were rather rare in Skyrim, where iron and steel ruled, and Balimund hadn't worked on it much since he was young and learning the trade from his mother. Bryn hadn't seen anyone wearing glass armor since leaving Cyrodiil, and even then it hadn't been common; here it would stick out like a sore thumb, but it was pretty, a light green color.

She would have to see what Eorlund knew about it once she was recovered and had time to linger in Whiterun. She wasn't sure when that would be. She still had so much to do, so much to learn, but she wanted to spend some time here, both with her beloved and learning a bit more from Arcadia about alchemy, as well as having Farengar show her how to use an enchanting desk. Her house in Riften had one and she had stared at it in confusion, unsure what to do with it. She did occasionally find magical items but usually sold them, not sure what they did and not about to get stuck with a cursed item. The more she thought about it, the more she was determined to talk to Farengar about enchanting before she left Whiterun. She didn't want to miss out on something truly useful out of ignorance.

* * *

The sound of Lydia calling "Bye!" and going out the front door startled Vilkas. "Where is she going?" he asked. He and Bryn were getting ready for bed, the girl tired. Vilkas wasn't, but he wasn't about to pass up precious time being close to his love.

"I think she has a date with Farkas. She rented a room at the inn."

He chuckled, "Is that so? Good, now we can talk about her the way I know you two were talking about me while I was out this morning."

"You flatter yourself." He laughed more loudly at that. She sat on the edge of the bed to watch him change into his nightclothes, admiring the view. She liked that he wasn't as heavy as Farkas. She didn't know how the smaller Lydia didn't get crushed when they were making love. It had been so good to see him earlier, though after sweeping her up in his arms for a bear hug he had held her out at arms' length and ripped her up one side then down the other for going out alone and nearly getting killed, and wearing only leather armor at that. He'd actually been angry with her, which had nearly made her start crying. Her eyes wandered over Vilkas' body, as tall as Farkas but leaner, with a large number of scars on his fair skin, though it didn't detract at all from his allure.

He glanced over at her and noticed her inspection. Smiling slyly, he said, "Don't go doing that or you'll get us both in trouble."

"Oh, I wouldn't want that." As she slid under the covers she continued, "I think I might visit with Adrianne tomorrow. I've felt much better than expected today."

"Hm, I don't know. Danica said for you to rest."

"Just sitting and talking to her is resting."

"Right," he drawled as he slid into bed next to her. "And the moment I turn around you'll pick up a hammer and start pounding away." He took her into his arms and grinned. "At least you won't want to bury it in my head now, eh?"

She laughed and stroked his dark hair back from his forehead. "Oh, I never really wanted to do that."

He sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her fingers as they ran through his hair. "How could I ever have been so cruel to you, love."

"You weren't in your right mind, obviously." He snorted a laugh. Her smile faded and she laid her hand on his rough cheek as she murmured, "I wish you wouldn't torment yourself, or try to hide what you are from me. If you feel the need to change and hunt then do it. Don't put yourself through all that suffering for nothing."

"It is not for nothing," he protested. "I won't spend eternity chasing prey in Hircine's realm. I want to stand before Tsun and be judged for my actions as a man, for my prowess in battle, not for being a beast."

"But dearest...you are whether you change or not." Vilkas looked stricken, as if horrified by her words. She shook her head and continued, "The wolf is there, always there, and you giving into it or not...why would that make a difference? That doesn't make it gone."

"Don't tell me such things!"

"Did you hate what you were before? Before Kodlak began having his doubts?"

"I didn't hate it, but I didn't love it either. I've always disliked having so little control over the urges, and I know I feel them more strongly than the others do. I've never had a taste for that kind of power. I have always wanted to be the greatest warrior I could be and excel in my skill at arms. The beast has always gotten in the way of that." He shook his head. "Kodlak is right. We've given a piece of our souls for this power. I know my mythic histories. Bargains like that lead to ruin. This is a curse that was laid upon us, that much is clear." He took hold of her wrist and brought her hand to his mouth. "I never wanted you to see me like that, even knowing that you had seen Farkas change and weren't frightened of him."

"It changes nothing for me. I still love you as much as I ever have." Vilkas made a sound of pain and held her hand against his mouth, his bright eyes glistening. "I'll talk to Kodlak before I go anywhere. Maybe he's made some progress in finding a cure, or I could be of some help to him in finding one. I hate knowing that you're suffering."

"As long as I have you with me, I won't."

She smiled and said, "You'll always have me with you, even when I'm not here. I made something for you, while I was in Riften. A present."

Vilkas was too bewildered to say anything, and when she pulled away he let go of her so she could roll over. She opened the drawer of the night table and took something out, and when she rolled back and took hold of his right arm he didn't resist. He watched in bemusement as she placed a bracelet of hammered gold on his wrist, bending the ends to close it securely. He stared at it, speechless. It was of braided thick gold wire, an inch wide, pounded flat so it lay easily against his skin, so fitted that he could barely tell it was there, and it most likely wouldn't be uncomfortable or even noticeable under a gauntlet.

When he said nothing she stated, "I started one in silver first, then I realized that wasn't a good idea, so I sold that one. Gold isn't all that durable, but I figured you would be wearing gauntlets most of the time." Vilkas said nothing, and she felt a touch of worry. She hesitated then added, "I know you don't wear jewelry. I hope I didn't assume too much. Maybe...maybe I shouldn't have."

"No no," he said quickly, realizing he had hurt her feelings. "It's beautiful, truly. It's only...I've never gotten such a thing before." In fact he didn't think he had ever received a true gift in his entire life, even as a child. Bryn looked relieved, and he kissed her soundly. "I will never take it off, as long as I live. I'll always have this to look at while you're away." He kissed her again, pulling her against him. "Did Balimund's big hands help you with it?" he teased.

Bryn's eyes widened in realization; this was the second time he had mentioned it, though she had been in so much pain the previous night that it hadn't registered at the time. "You read Farkas' letter!" she gasped, her face reddening. Which meant he had read that she was keeping her options open with Balimund. She was horrified.

"He handed it to me to read. It isn't as if I stole it." Vilkas leaned in close to put his nose against hers. "And it isn't as if _my_ hands are particularly small, love."

"I didn't mean it that way!"

Vilkas laughed loudly as her voice peeped. "What way do you think I mean?" His breath caught as he felt her free hand wrap around him through his nightclothes. "Ah, that way," he said in a tight voice. "What are you trying to do, girl, get me in trouble?"

"Yes." He made a sound of frustration, and she innocently said, "It seems as if you're already very prepared for trouble."

"I'm only a man—Ah gods," he groaned, closing his eyes as she began stroking him. "I won't be responsible for what I do if you keep that up." She didn't answer other than to increase the pressure, and he abandoned any thought of Danica's stern warning as he fell on her hungrily. She responded with equal enthusiasm, if anything greater than his, and it eased any cares he could possibly have. She was as eager for his touch as she had been before, if not more so, not as shy as she had been when they were first together. If only he could have this all the time, have someone warm and willing every night before he fell asleep, it would make the beast so much easier to bear. Spending himself in her quieted the Blood, and when he did this time he held her tightly and whispered in her ear, "Gods woman, I love you so!"

"Nowhere near as much as I love you," she replied in kind, tears pricking her eyes. Yes, he did love her, no matter what else happened, or didn't happen. If he could tell her this now, things could change later; maybe seeing his brother marry would spur him on. One never knew.

"Bullshit. That is a blatant lie." He heard and felt her laugh as he covered her face with kisses, then her legs tightened around him as she gasped. He lifted his head and she had her eyes squeezed shut, an ill look on her face. He pulled away from her and she rolled onto her side with a whimper.

"I feel sick!"

"Oh no," Vilkas groaned. He looked around in a panic for something for her to vomit in, and there was nothing but a decorative vase in the loft by the stairs. He rubbed her back, dreading what was coming and wishing desperately that Lydia was home to help him deal with it, but after a few minutes it became apparent that he was safe. He quietly asked her, "Do you want anything? A drink?"

"Just…just water," she whispered. "So dizzy…"

"I knew this was a bad idea." He threw back the covers and went to the small table in the room where a pitcher of water sat.

"It was worth it."

He snorted a laugh. "I can't deny that." He knelt at her side of the bed and offered her a goblet of water, which she drank down greedily. She thanked him and lay down again, snuggling into the covers. He petted her hair and murmured, "Go to sleep, love. I'm going to wash up and find a book to read or something."

"Sure." She was already nearly there.

Vilkas waited the short amount of time it took her to fall asleep, her golden eyes fluttering open every so often to gaze at him, a smile touching her mouth. Once she was out he let his hand fall away from her head and carefully stood, trying to avoid making the wooden floorboards creak. He washed and put his nightclothes back on, feeling warm contentment alternating with pangs of grief as he went downstairs to get a bite to eat and a book to read. It would be so easy to get used to this. Used to having a wife, a home of his own. Used to not being alone.

Bryn had a bookshelf by the door, and he went there to pick out something to read. He saw a glint out of the corner of his eye and saw the Axe of Whiterun above the door, the sheen of frost magic crawling over its surface, a gift from Jarl Balgruuf upon naming her thane. Avenicci had kindly sent one of his men earlier today to see if she needed anything, and Bryn had politely declined and said she would call upon the Jarl first thing upon recovering. Others had come and gone during the day but Lydia had turned the rest away; Bryn would have spent all her energy entertaining guests instead of resting.

Vilkas ran his finger along the shelf, seeing a number of interesting books that he had never had the pleasure of laying his own eyes upon, though he had heard of a number of them: _Light Armor Forging_, _The Gold Ribbon of Merit, Lord Jornibret's Last Dance_. Some like _Racial Phylogeny_ he owned himself. He saw with disquiet that she also had a copy of _Physicalities of Werewolves_ and had to wonder where she had picked that up, and why she had kept it. Then his eyes lit on a book bound in tattered black leather, set away from the others. When he pulled it out there was no title on the cover, only a silver stylized dragon: the symbol of the Empire, though this one had the tip of a wing broken off, looking terribly worn. He supposed it was fitting.

Intrigued, Vilkas opened the cover and felt a chill run down his spine at the title: _The Book of the Dragonborn_. He had never heard of this book before, and he considered himself somewhat of a scholar, especially for a Companion. Feeling cold, he took the book back upstairs with him and slid under the bedcovers. Bryn didn't stir, too deeply asleep. He propped himself up against a pillow and opened the book again, seeing it was by a former prior of the Order of Talos, disbanded during the Oblivion crisis.

By time he finished the book an hour later he was nearly sick with dread, staring at Bryn's ash blond hair sticking out above the covers. He looked at the last lines of the book again:

_ When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world_

_ When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped_

_ When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles_

_ When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls_

_ When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding_

_ The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn._

The World-Eater wakes… _Alduin_.

Vilkas snapped the cover shut, shivering, and Bryn mumbled and rolled over, reaching for him in her sleep. He set the book on the end table and blew out the lantern then slid down under the covers, taking her into his arms, and she muttered something again then fell back asleep with a sigh. For hours sleep evaded him, his mind repeating the last lines of the book over and over again, wondering what they meant though some were obvious. The Brass Tower was Numidium, and time had been reshaped during the Warp of the West. The last Dragonborn emperor had died two hundred years ago when Martin Septim, the last of Tiber Septim's line, had sacrificed himself to stop the Oblivion crisis, something the Thalmor still wouldn't admit was true even with the damn dragon statue right in front of them. The White Tower was clearly White-Gold Tower. Vilkas wasn't sure what the Snow Tower was, but he could infer that as parts of Skyrim were always covered in snow and the country was currently ripping itself apart with no High King, that Skyrim had something to do with the Snow Tower. Skyrim had always been one of the pillars that held up the Empire, and now everything was crumbling.

But the World-Eater! And the dragons. Alduin was the Eater of Worlds, and a dragon. The king of dragons, some said the first-born of Akatosh, who was also often represented as a dragon, the god of time. Time was often referred to as a wheel. Alduin had returned to eat the world and the wheel of time was turning upon the Dragonborn, the last of them it seemed: Bryn. Bryn had been born to stop the dragons, to stop Alduin from destroying the world. He wondered if she knew this, if she had been able to read all that into this book that she had kept for some reason, tattered as it was. He wondered if the Greybeards had told her anything at all about this purpose. Maybe she had figured all this out and that was why she occasionally grew so despondent. Why she had told him she could never marry.

Agonizing over what he had read, Vilkas wondered if maybe he should ask her to marry him, and if by doing so he could somehow change things. Change her fate, or at least lift the gloom that occasionally surrounded her. If Farkas intended to marry Lydia just because they got along well and had great sex and she made him happy when she was around, surely Vilkas should marry Bryn when they both loved each other so desperately. Surely they loved each other like this for a reason. But then what right did he have to try to change her fate, whatever it might be? If Alduin had returned to the world in order to destroy it, and Bryn had been born to stop that from happening, how could he interfere, thereby maybe dooming them all? By asking her to marry him he could end up distracting her from her goal, and if he got her pregnant, which usually came not long after marriage, then it truly could spell the end of everything. What was the point of bringing a child into a world that was doomed?

"Vilkas, what's wrong?"

The worried whisper caught him by surprise; he was unaware that his fidgeting had awakened her. He lied, "Nothing. I...I'm having trouble sleeping. I'm sorry I woke you."

"No honey, it's all right." She put her arm over him and moved close, and he made a huffing sound of either upset or frustration and rolled over to face her. She stroked his cheek as he kissed her tenderly, and when he began hardening against her still-naked body she was more than happy to have been awakened. He made love to her again, this time with exquisite slowness and gentleness, as sweet and wonderful as their very first time together, and after that he quickly fell asleep, nearly snoring with exhaustion.

Bryn fell asleep soon after, but being better rested she was first to awaken in the morning. She eased out of bed to go relieve herself then caught sight of the book on Vilkas' side of the bed. She sighed silently, saddened, the cause of his inability to sleep suddenly clear. She supposed she should have put the book in a chest somewhere, but it hadn't occurred to her that anyone but she or Lydia would ever read it. Lydia hadn't found it unsettling when she had first read it, instead seeing it as more proof of Bryn's fate to be a hero; Bryn had read it for the first time before ever realizing she was Dragonborn, thinking it only a book about Nord myths, and once she had realized what she was and re-read the book it had chilled her to the bone. She found nothing about her fate glorious at all, whatever that fate was exactly. Lydia wavered between apotheosis and rulership of the Empire, nothing short of what Tiber Septim had accomplished; neither sounded particularly good to Bryn. She didn't want to rule anything or anyone, though her desire to put the Thalmor in their place had never wavered.

Some days all she could really believe was that it was all going to end with her death, but most of the time she simply couldn't think more than a few weeks ahead. Whatever she imagined, it was almost never a cozy home life with a husband. With Vilkas. If she couldn't have it with him, she didn't want it with anyone. And if after living in her house with her for a few days, after telling her he loved her so, after her nearly dying…if after all that he still couldn't bring himself to ask her to marry him, what would it take? It had felt so right, this last day, having him always near, sliding into the same bed together at night and cuddling to sleep. It had seemed to make him happy as well. Why wouldn't he want this all the time? Bryn supposed she could be the one to ask him; Nord women were bold and just as likely to be the one to seek a marriage. Bryn wasn't that brave. She could face down a dragon more easily than she could contemplate facing Vilkas while wearing an Amulet of Mara. His rejection would utterly destroy her, especially now. He wouldn't be cruel about it, but that wouldn't matter. Better to keep things as they were and enjoy each other while they could.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I want to sincerely thank those that have chosen to Favorite and Follow this story. **

**It has taken up the last year of my life so it warms my heart to see others enjoying it. Thank you all very much.**

Aela was first to greet Bryn as she came through the front doors of Jorrvaskr. "Hail, Shield-Sister," she called as she came over. "You look like you've seen some action, and recently." The girl was a bit paler than usual and had the usual dirt and blood spatter one got on the job.

"Halted Stream and Silent Moons Camps. Clearing out bandits for Jarl Balgruuf, something quick and easy near home before I head out. Is um, is Vilkas around?" Her beloved had reluctantly returned to Jorrvaskr and his own quarters three days ago, once it became apparent that she was fully recovered. He had stayed a night longer than he probably should have but had found it difficult to leave. She hadn't liked it either, nearly getting teary-eyed while he gathered up his things. She was completely better though, as good as new, and unless he wanted to actually live with her then he'd had to go back to the mead hall. She felt bad about it but he had been shirking his usual training duties to be with her, and he had to go back at some point. She had also needed to have her own time to craft a new set of armor; he had been right that plain leather simply wasn't enough protection. She had made a nice set of scaled armor, and it certainly had done the job, though it was a bit heavier than what she was used to wearing.

"He's out in the yard with the younglings." She hesitated then quietly said, "It's none of my business, what's going on between you two, but I wouldn't interrupt right now. He has a job to do."

Bryn frowned, saying, "I had no intention of interrupting. I only wanted to tell him that I'm leaving again. Now. As soon as possible. I would never intentionally keep him from his duty, any more than he would keep me from mine."

"My apologies. I didn't mean to offend."

She sighed and said, "No offense. I'm sorry if that came out wrong. I'm just…I'm in a hurry."

"Really. Why is that?" Bryn didn't answer, instead fishing out a large faceted round crystal from her pack. "What on Nirn is that?" Aela said in astonishment. The crystal was quite large, the size of a melon, white with tiny striations all through it that caught the light and sent it shooting a thousand different directions. It was gorgeous, but something told Aela it wasn't just a pretty rock.

"Meridia's Beacon."

"Great Divines, what have you gotten yourself into now?" Aela sighed. "Where did you find it?"

"In the big chest in Halted Stream Camp," she said tiredly, stuffing it back in her bag. "After I killed the boss. Lydia and I started poking around for loot, and I picked up the crystal and it started talking to me. Now I can't put the damn thing down, and every few hours she, Meridia I guess, demands to know what I'm doing and why I'm not heading for her shrine. So I'm heading for the shrine. I have to get rid of this thing, it's driving me crazy. I literally cannot put it down."

"I'll let Vilkas know you're leaving. Grab something to eat and I'll get him for you. I'm sorry if I caused problems."

"No, not at all, sister," Bryn assured her.

"When you get back…Skjor and I have been meaning to talk to you about something. Grab one of us when you'll be in town for a few days, before you take any other jobs."

"Of course." Aela headed for the back door and Bryn gratefully sat down to eat some of the cheese and bread laid out. She heard footsteps behind her then a grunt as someone lowered themselves into the chair next to her, and when she saw it was Vignar she smiled at him and leaned in to kiss his weathered cheek. "Hello, Vignar."

He gave her a brief smile, his eyes troubled. He patted the metal plate covering her shoulder. "I see you learned your lesson about having only animal skin between you and an arrow."

"Yes, Revered. Farkas hammered that into my head quite well when I came back." She rotated her shoulders. "I'm still getting used to it, but it's already proved its worth."

"It looks like it." He licked his lips and glanced at the door. They were the only ones in the hall except Tilma, who was doing some mending on the other side of the fire. Nothing in this hall escaped her; she no doubt knew things that even he didn't about what went on here. "About Aela and Skjor…"

"So they _are_ seeing each other!"

Vignar made a sound of aggravation and waved her off. "I don't know and I don't care. By the Nine, what is this place coming to! That isn't what I'm here to talk to you about, girl. I'll try to make this quick, but Aela and Skjor…they don't see eye to eye with the twins and Kodlak about certain things. The Circle isn't united in their…ah, beliefs."

"Yes," she murmured with a nod. "I've noticed the tension there." Aela and Skjor seemed to operate independently of the other three, much more than they should, and rarely sat talking with Kodlak as the others did, though they spoke of him with the deepest respect.

"There's good reason for that." He glanced at the door again. "Whatever those two offer you…don't take it. If you have a whit of sense in that pretty head you won't do it." Bryn didn't ask what 'it' was, gazing at him with a neutral expression, but she knew. He said quickly, his tone intent, "It isn't worth it, lass. What you have pales in comparison to being some….some _dog_." He nearly spat the word out. "They offered it to me when I returned from the War and rejoined the Companions. Thirty years I was a Commander in the Legion, and fought in the Great War, and all that time I dreamed of returning to the Jorrvaskr of my youth and joining the Circle. This life is all I had ever wanted, you know. I spent my entire childhood playing on the steps of Jorrvaskr or hiding watching the Companions train. They really used to be something, back then. Nowadays they just squabble amongst themselves and drink themselves into a stupor. If I had become Harbinger I never would have allowed us to slide into such a state, but I wasn't about to sell my soul to a Daedra for it."

"Well, I'm not particularly happy about the state of affairs here either," Bryn admitted. "Eorlund told me early on that the Companions haven't had a true leader since Ysgramor, but…these people need a leader. Why they're allowed to just brawl and drink all day and night is beyond me. They're good people, for the most part, but…" She shook her head. "It isn't working. I don't say anything, because it isn't my place, but Vilkas and Skjor talk about bringing in gold, how there aren't enough jobs to go around, but I'm wandering all over heck and gone finding more work than I can do. It's as if they aren't even trying."

"Hard to find work when you sit here drinking and waiting for it to come to you," he said sourly.

"Yes, exactly!" she said intently, turning to fully face him. "See, I've put some thought into this, Revered. About the future of the Companions, about what I would do if I had some say. Kodlak listens to me, but they aren't all listening to him anymore, because of his illness. His mind is as sharp as ever, and Vilkas and Farkas listen to him—"

"Those boys follow wherever he tells them to go because he's the only father they've ever really known. They were already here when I came back from the War, and Jergen long gone."

"Was he really their father?"

Vignar shrugged. "Can't say, never met the man. Does it matter? Farkas would love his memory either way, and Vilkas resent him for leaving either way."

"And no one knows who their mother was? Where they came from?"

"Not as far as I'm aware. Jergen found them in some cave in Eastmarch, so Arnbjorn told me back then."

"The one that was expelled from the Circle, and Jorrvaskr?"

"Aye, the same. Filthy beast of a man, that one was. Didn't start out that way, but that was how he ended up. Anyway, he said Jergen had gone to do a job out that way, nearly into Morrowind, and on his way back a blizzard came up, and while looking for shelter he came upon the cave and heard a child crying, a fairly little one from the sound of it. Child has no business being in a cave, so he crept in for a look and…" Vignar's shoulders shuddered as he shook his head. "Foul, _foul_ business, that. Necromancers and their thralls, bodies and parts of bodies strewn everywhere, so he said. Seeing a wee child sobbing in a cage in the middle of that would drive any decent man mad, and the boy's twin near dead lying next to him. Jergen barely made it out alive himself, but he got those boys out and avenged what was done to them. Doesn't matter if he was their father. Frankly I doubt he was, and so does everyone else, but he saved their lives and did his best to look after them for as long as he could, when by all rights he could have dumped them off in Honorhall Orphanage and washed his hands of them."

Bryn made a sound of anguish, her hand over her mouth as she fought not to cry. Vilkas hated talking about it, still haunted by it some thirty-five years later, unable to forget. Vilkas had been the little boy crying in the cage, crying because his brother was nearly dead, though Bryn wasn't sure Vilkas had understood at the time that Farkas was dying, young as they were. And the Orphanage…Bryn had stopped in there once, and only once, to see if there was anything the children needed, and the old hag Grelod who ran the place had practically shoved her out the door. Her young helper had seemed helpless to do anything about the situation. Bryn had avoided the Orphanage after that; every time she neared the building she heard the old woman screaming at the children, or children crying. She had brought up the apparent conditions at the Orphanage to Jarl Laila, and in her usual clueless way she had said that Grelod was providing a home for children that would otherwise be wandering the streets and that the old woman was a saint for doing so, and that if she sometimes got frustrated with the children it was understandable. Bryn had quickly given up, but she hadn't forgotten Grelod the Kind. She wasn't sure what to do about it yet, like so many other things in Riften, but one day she would figure something out.

"From what everyone here said at the time, Jergen was a good man, an honorable man. Farkas remembers what matters: that Jergen saved their lives and brought them here where they could have a decent childhood. Vilkas though…he just clings to the loss," Vignar stated with regret. "Arnbjorn said that Farkas was proud that Jergen was heading off to fight in the War, but Vilkas wept and raged and made a scene." He shook his head. "Jergen indulged those boys too much, no doubt because he felt so sorry for them. It wasn't until after Jergen left that Kodlak took the boys in hand and made civilized human beings out of them. I did what I could once I came here, but they were nearly ten by then and frankly I just didn't have the patience. I taught them what I could, showed them what real honor meant, not just a mercenary's honor, and they became fine men. Would have been a lot finer if the price for joining the Circle hadn't been an issue."

Bryn slowly nodded. "Vilkas told me it's always gotten in the way of him being the warrior he wanted to be."

"It's a damn shame," Vignar said sadly. "If the boy could get his head on straight and get rid of the curse, he'd have the potential to take over when Kodlak finally goes, but the way he is now…not a chance. And that stays between you and me, missy."

Stunned, she whispered, "Aye, Revered." She wasn't about to ask who Kodlak had in mind as a successor. She had the sinking feeling that she already knew. It all made a terrible, perfect sense now. Kodlak had done everything he could to keep Bryn here, to keep her joined to and involved with the Companions. To keep her invested in them. And she was. They were the only family she had, other than Lydia. But to be Harbinger? Where would she find the time? And frankly she didn't deserve the position. Vilkas did. Vilkas was the one keeping the books here, the one who took the most care of Kodlak when he was sick, the one who cared most what happened to the Companions. Bryn would be horrified if Kodlak named her his successor over Vilkas.

Further discussion was interrupted by Vilkas entering through the back doors, and the sweet smile he gave her made her ache with mixed guilt and longing. She glanced at Vignar, who was eyeing her in warning, and she murmured, "I treasure your counsel, Vignar the Revered. I'll keep it close."

"You're a good lass," he stated, and when she kissed his cheek lingeringly he chuckled and added, "Careful now. I'm not so old that I can't give Vilkas a run for his money." Bryn laughed merrily, her cheeks turning pink, and he patted her leg then got up from the table.

She took a last drink of mead as Vilkas approached, saying, "I hope that old codger wasn't trying to edge me out."

"Not _trying_, boy," Vignar retorted over his shoulder. "Until there's a Bond of Matrimony on that finger, all's fair."

Bryn laughed, unable to help finding it funny, though it was a touchy subject. The old man meant well. Vilkas didn't seem amused at all. She stood and said to him, "I have to go, beloved. Something urgent has come up."

"What now? I thought you were going to Mount Anthor tomorrow."

"It looks like I'm going to Kilkreath Ruins first."

"Why is that?"

"I found Meridia's Beacon."

Vilkas stared at her for a moment before saying dryly, "Of course you did. I mean, who else would?"

"I know," she sighed. "It's like I attract trouble. I really do have to go, though. The beacon is, well, being persistent. The sooner I get rid of it, the better."

"All right, but…gods, be careful. Never completely trust any Daedra. You're taking Lydia, right?"

"Of course. She's been at my back for the last two days. She won't leave my side until we get back home."

He bit his lip and glanced over at Vignar's quarters, which the old man had disappeared into, then the other way to Tilma, who seemed to be paying no attention, but one never knew. He took Bryn's hand and led her to the front doors then outside. Once the doors closed behind them he quietly said, "I was hoping for just one more night together."

Bryn sighed and reached up to hold her hand against his cheek. "Oh beloved, that would have been wonderful. Fruitless in a way, but wonderful. My ah, hm. My, well, you know, it's, um, here. Since this morning."

He smiled slyly at her and asked, "Your what? I'm not sure I get your meaning."

She stomped her foot and said, "You damn well do know what I mean!" He laughed at her and she had to resist the urge to smack his shoulder. It was the one part she detested about being a woman. When she'd been stick thin her cycle had been infrequent, but now that she ate frequently and heartily and had put on a good deal of healthy weight, it showed up with annoying regularity.

"What, is the Dragonborn too great and powerful to get a visit from everyone's favorite aunt?"

"Oooh, you're absolutely wicked, Vilkas!" she said angrily, her cheeks burning. He laughed even harder, and she turned on her heel and walked away from him. He ran to stand in front of her, grabbing her hand, a broad grin still on his face, and she balled up her fists, trying to stay mad at him, but it was impossible to when he kissed her knuckles one by one, his gray eyes twinkling, his smile a thing of beauty. It was still so rare to see him laugh and smile so freely. "Absolutely wicked," she repeated in loving exasperation.

"That I am," he murmured against her fist. "How long will you be gone?"

"Honestly, I have no idea." She hesitated, afraid to worry him. "Lydia and I are going to take a wagon to Solitude, but I was going to run to Riverwood first. To meet again with Delphine."

"The Blade," he said in derision. "I was wondering when she would come up again."

"I've been thinking a lot about the things she said, while I was in The Rift. About the dragons, and the Thalmor. As she said, the civil war was practically over. If that dragon hadn't shown up-Alduin, I'm sure it was-Ulfric would have gone to the block and the fighting would have been pretty much over. But the dragon shows up, Ulfric escapes, and Skyrim begins tearing itself apart again, while the Thalmor sit back and watch like eager crows, waiting to pick at the remains."

Stifling a shiver of dread, Vilkas held her hand to his chest and quietly said, "Yes, I can see that. I can definitely see all that. However even the Thalmor aren't powerful enough to cause the dragons to return."

"No," she agreed, "however they're more than capable of setting up the conditions that guaranteed that Alduin would." Vilkas frowned, troubled. Well, she was troubled too. "I didn't tell you when you were at my house, because it just didn't occur to me at the time, but I saw a small group of Thalmor, when I was first on my way to The Rift, just a few hours northeast of Whiterun. The wagon passed them by, two warriors and a wizard, and they had a prisoner between them, a man. I couldn't help wondering where they were taking him, and why, but I hadn't heard before that they were doing that. Taking prisoners."

"For no good purpose, and I don't want you getting involved. Gods above woman, they are nothing to trifle with. I'd rather have you tangling with dragons than those people. They're ruthless. I've heard they're in Skyrim to stamp out the last remains of Talos worship. Rumors have it that they've started entering people's homes, looking for family shrines." Bryn's eyes widened as her nostril's flared, and he suddenly wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

"I understand destroying the Chapel in Bruma and removing the shrine in Solitude, _barely_," she said furiously, "but people's private beliefs are their own, and the Thalmor have no business interfering in that!"

"Yes, I agree, however—"

"And look there," she demanded, pointing at the statue of Talos standing nearby. "What do you think they'll make of that? How long before they come to Whiterun and start poking around? Heimskr doesn't sound all that crazy anymore, does he? His delivery leaves a lot to be desired, but knowing what the Thalmor are doing only validates what he says. Jarl Balgruuf has left the shrine alone, and I've seen people visiting it, late at night. I've visited it gods know how many times, very publicly. In fact I was going to again before I left. I noticed that I can Shout more easily for a while afterward, and I was going to have Heimskr bless the amulet I found."

"Amulet," Vilkas muttered. "You think you're going to go around in public with an Amulet of Talos on your chest? Are you out of your damn mind?"

"I was going to tuck it inside my armor! Of course I'm not out of my mind!" He let go of her hand and folded his arms, jaw clenched and eyes blazing within their black warpaint as he glared at her. She pulled the amulet out of her pocket. "I found this lying on the forge in Silent Moons Camp. All amulets confer a blessing on the wearer. I'm Dragonborn, and so was Talos, and think about that, why don't you? How long will it be before the Thalmor hear about me and show up on my doorstep to haul _me_ away?"

He stared at her, horrified. "They wouldn't dare."

"They would dare anything. My own family, my own flesh and blood, my uncle and cousin, detested me simply because I was half-human. They weren't Thalmor but they spoke of humans as if they were walking, talking beasts. They honestly believe that they're meant to be our masters. If they had gotten their way, I would still be in that house, scrubbing the floors." She slid the amulet back into her pocket, seeing the distress on this face. She took his hand and squeezed it, continuing, "It won't be long before all of Skyrim has heard about me, and I can't hide away to avoid that happening. I have to get out there and find as many words of power as possible, build up my skills as much as possible, so that if they do come after me I can defend myself, and whoever is with me. And I have to hear what Delphine has found out in the last two months since Kynesgrove. I want to know if the Thalmor have anything to do with all this."

"All right," he said softly. "And what if they do? What if they are responsible for the dragons? How is that any worse than what they've already done to us?"

"It means they've made the gods angry, because I'm here." Vilkas said nothing, staring at her sadly. "I was born in 174, the year the Thalmor sacked the Imperial City. I hate to feed Lydia's hero worship, but the gods are the ones who put me here, for a specific purpose, and even if it was only to kill dragons, or deal with Alduin, that doesn't mean it has to be my only purpose. The Thalmor hate Talos, because he was once Tiber Septim, a man, the man who broke the first Aldmeri Dominion, and that's why they're trying to systematically destroy Talos worship. They'll hate me because I'm Dragonborn and try to destroy me to keep word of me under wraps, because if it starts to spread it will give Man hope. When they hear that there's another Dragonborn, now, and in Skyrim of all places, they'll drive themselves mad trying to find me."

"I want to go with you," Vilkas stated intently. Bryn sighed and let go of his hand, and he took hers back before it could drop away. She looked past him and he looked over his shoulder to see Lydia standing by the Gildergreen, waiting. He turned back to Bryn and repeated, "I want to go with you."

"Oh Vilkas," she sighed heavily. "You can't. You know you can't. Your work is here, at least for now. I want you to go with me at some point, but right now I have to figure out what my direction is. I've been wandering around with almost no guidance, and even if I don't completely trust Delphine's motives, I don't believe she's lied to me. The Greybeards just tell me 'work on the Voice' but won't tell me why yet. I've figured it out on my own, and I guess you did the other night too when you read that book."

"Yes," he said miserably.

She kissed his gauntleted hand and stated, "I love you, more than anything."

"I love you too, and certainly more than you love me."

"That isn't true and you know it. The thing is, I know how much you love me, Vilkas. You love me so much that I would go to face something dangerous and you would leap in to save me from it, and we could both end up dying." He didn't deny it. "Lydia isn't as skilled as you. Nowhere near as skilled as you. But she works well with me. She stays at my back and doesn't try to be a hero. You can't help being a hero."

He muttered, "Your flattery won't work on me. I'm not a child."

"I'm being truthful, dearest. I'll swear that on any Divine you'd like." She tugged on his hand. "Come with me as far as the gates?"

"Of course."

Vilkas went along, keeping hold of her hand and not caring who saw it. He went with her to the Shrine of Talos and listened to Heimskr's impassioned blessing of the amulet, the man thrilled to death to be asked to perform such an honor for the Dragonborn, but when he moved to put it on Bryn, Vilkas stepped in and took it from him, causing the priest to sputter in offense. He knew people were watching, far too many people, but he didn't care. He looped the leather necklace around Bryn's neck then fastened it, saying, "May Talos watch over your battles, my love."

"I think he does," she whispered.

"If the day ever does come that you face the Thalmor on the battlefield, you won't do it without me." She nodded, her golden Altmer eyes shining. He couldn't deny that was what they were. It was fitting that someday the High Elves' own blood might cause their downfall. He picked up the Amulet of Talos and kissed it lingeringly, knowing people were watching, and once again he didn't care. Let the Elves come for him, and he would have all of Jorrvaskr at his back. He thought it would be rather amusing if the Companions ended up returning to their original purpose of slaying Elves. Ysgramor would smile indeed on that day.

"The Thalmor Embassy welcomes you."

_Not for long_, Bryn thought, feeling sweat trickle down her back. Though her expression was calm she was a nervous wreck. She wasn't cut out for subterfuge and lying, and thought longingly of fighting her way through some musty crypt or dank cave. _That_ she knew and could handle. As she made her way into the Embassy with her new friend Razelan in tow, she wondered what Lydia was doing right now. Probably pacing their room at the Winking Skeever and muttering obscenities over being forced to stay behind once again. Bryn felt so terribly alone without her. The last seven weeks in Haafingar and Hjaalmarch holds together-and beyond-had cemented them into the perfect team, their skills and Bryn's _thu'um_ growing to the point where together they were able to surmount any challenge with little difficulty, though the Dragon Priest in Volskygge had given them some trouble. She had garnered a useful mask out of it and intended to use it tonight in an attempt to keep her face from being seen if she had to fight anyone. Or rather _when_ she had to fight someone. There was no way she was getting out of here without having to do so. She had gotten extremely good at hiding in shadows and walking silently, but there were simply too many Thalmor here to avoid them all. They were going to figure out it was her though, no matter what she did, so she might as well take out as many as she could without bringing the entire lot of them down on her.

Bryn paused in the entryway as Razelan walked in confidently to join the party. Her heart skipped a beat as a thin Altmer woman with hollow cheeks headed her direction, a slight frown on her face. She put on a bright smile, hoping she wasn't overdoing it, and looked around the Embassy with a wondering expression, her hands clasped before her.

"Welcome. I don't believe we've met. I am Elenwen, the Thalmor ambassador to Skyrim," the Elven woman said, in a voice that seemed more suited to screeching at people than making genteel conversation. "And you are?"

"You're Elenwen? _The_ Elenwen?" Bryn breathed. "Oh I've heard so much about you! What an honor, madam!"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure," she replied haughtily. She looked the girl up and down, frowning anew. "You seem familiar," she murmured. "Are you certain we've never met?"

"Oh, well, one Nord looks much like another, you know."

"Up to a point." The girl however was very tall, as tall as an Altmer woman, and had Altmer eyes in color though not in shape. Her hair was as fine and fair as a High Elf's as well, though it didn't lay back from her face as it would on an elf. A half-breed, here in Skyrim. Interesting. And revolting. She opened her mouth to demand the girl's name and background when the Bosmer servant called out insistently to her about some triviality regarding the wine, which he knew better than to do.

Bryn put her hand to her mouth and gasped, "Is that truly Jarl Idgrod? Oh, I must meet her!" She hurried off while Elenwen was distracted with berating Malborn. Bryn panicked when she saw that Maven Black-Briar was in attendance. The woman knew who she was, and was indeed staring at her with narrowed eyes, no doubt wondering what the hell she was doing here. Thane Erikur of Solitude was also present, though he was too busy fawning on a handsome Altmer wizard to notice her.

She went to the Jarl and held out her hand, saying, "Jarl Idgrod? What a pleasure to meet you!"

The older lady shook her hand slowly, her hazel eyes glittering, and under the cover of the music she murmured, "Well isn't this interesting." Bryn had recently become one of her thanes, and it seemed there was more to the girl than met the eye. But then Idgrod had known that from the moment she'd laid eyes on her. It had quickly become apparent just who and what the girl was; rumor had circulated through Skyrim in recent months that the Greybeards had called a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar for the first time in centuries, and in the last several weeks the rumors had solidified into fact, and then the girl shows up in Morthal of all places with a servant in tow and takes down a dragon right in the center of town on her first day. The existence of the Dovahkiin in Skyrim, now, had to really stick in the Thalmor's craw, and Idgrod wondered if the Elves were actively looking for Bryn, if they even knew her name or what she looked like. Obviously not if she was here at the party, though Elenwen kept watching her with an almost feral intensity.

"It's about to get that much more interesting, my Jarl."

Idgrod laughed shortly, a cackle more than anything. "Better I know as little about that as possible." She had no love for the Thalmor at all, and trusted them just as little. While she was a nominal supporter of the Empire, the Thalmor were _not_ the Empire. They were the opposite of everything the Empire stood for. Idgrod's concern was for Hjaalmarch first of all, and Skyrim second. All the rest could go hang. She noticed Maven Black-Briar watching Bryn suspiciously, and she said, "You know, it's been a long time since I've had the pleasure of talking to my old friend Maven. Why don't you get yourself a drink, child?"

"Thank you my Jarl, I will."

"May wisdom light your path."

Bryn bowed to the elderly Jarl then went to the Bosmer serving girl, who offered her a goblet of Colovian brandy. Bryn thanked her and took a small sip, nearly choking as it burned like sweet fire down her throat. She was so used to mead now that it was unbearable. Seeing Elenwen start towards her again, Bryn casually wandered over to pick up a sweetroll off a nearby table, and the Altmer woman was caught by Erikur as he turned away from the wizard by the fire. Bryn edged around the room and went to Malborn, who was manning the bar. She leaned on it as if making conversation, hoping her expression was more relaxed than his. He was going to give them both away at this rate.

"Good, you made it in," he murmured. "As soon as you distract the guards, I'll open the door and we can slip out." Bryn nodded, and he added with worry, "Let's hope we both make it through this day alive."

"I'll do everything in my power to make certain of that."

"Yeah, sure, sure."

Bryn nearly made a jibe about how touching his faith was. He had no idea who or what she was, according to Delphine, so he had cause. Bryn wasn't altogether sure what she was going to do about the situation either. She turned away, taking another sip of brandy, then her eyes lit on Razelan, who was sitting on a bench near a Justiciar, looking forlorn. She walked over to him and he sighed heavily.

"What's a fellow have to do to get a drink around here?" he complained.

"Here, have mine," Bryn offered. "It isn't agreeing with me."

"Ah, the one generous soul amongst all these penny-pinchers and lick-spittles," he stated happily as he took the proffered goblet. He winked at her and said, "If there is ever anything I can do for you pretty lady, you just let me know."

Bryn sat down on the bench next to him and murmured, "Well, now that you mention it, there is this one thing…"

"Anything! Just name it."

"I have a, ah, paramour," she whispered girlishly, biting her lip as she looked around the room. "One of the guards. I was hoping to slip away from the party for, well, you know, but it's been impossible. If you could create a distraction…"

"Is that all!" he laughed. "My friend, you could say causing a scene is somewhat of a specialty of mine. Stand back and behold my handiwork!" Razelan stood and cracked his knuckles then walked to the center of the room. "Attention! Attention everyone! I have an announcement to make."

Bryn stood and walked softly over to Malborn, seeing that the Redguard had the entire room riveted to him, though the Altmer stared at him with wrinkled noses that reminded her strongly of her aunt and grandmother. Malborn held the door open for her and whispered, "Go, go! Before anyone notices us!" She slipped out into the connecting hallway and he went on, "So far, so good. Let's hope no one saw anything. We'll need to go through the kitchen. Your gear is hidden in the larder. Just stay close and let me do any talking, got it? Follow me."

"All right."

He took her through the kitchen, looking appropriately ill when the khajit cook complained about guests in the kitchen, then they were through and in the larder. "Okay, your gear is in that chest over there. I'm going to lock the door behind you. Don't screw this up!"

"Why would I?"

"Why wouldn't you?" he countered, feeling sick with nerves. "You don't know what those people can do. You'll beg for them to kill you once they're done with you."

Bryn rolled her eyes and went to the chest. "Come with me if you're worried."

"Hell no!" She started dressing, and he urged, "Hurry it up! I'm dead if they notice I'm missing!"

"Turn around!"

"What? Oh! Sorry."

He turned away and Bryn quickly stripped off the party clothes and pulled on her armor and gear then stuffed the clothes in her pack. Everything she had given him was there, but it still felt like it wasn't enough. "Okay, I'm ready," she murmured as she pulled Volsung down over her face. As ready as she could be, anyway. She was more nervous now than she had been at the party. She didn't doubt her chances to get out alive, but she worried about Malborn. He was going to end up giving himself away, she knew it, and though it was silly she would feel responsible if anything happened to him. He was the last left of his family after the Thalmor purges.

"Go, go," he whispered, motioning her out the next door. "Good luck!"

"You too." She went out the door and heard the click of a lock behind her.

Bryn took a deep breath and rotated her neck and shoulders, then she went over her armor and gear once more as Farkas had taught her what seemed like a lifetime ago, making sure everything was secure and well-placed. She also made sure everything was set to make no noise as she moved. She was able to move in complete silence when she was alone, something Lydia just couldn't seem to master; Bryn had slipped away from her housecarl at night many times while they were in towns to prowl about and further hone her skills. Her sneakiness would certainly come in handy here.

Bryn was about to move out when she heard two Altmer speaking in Altmeris to each other, complaining about a group of 'robes', most likely wizards, that had recently arrived. It seemed there was resentment among the rank and file warriors against the arrogance of the magic users. It was interesting but meant little. She waited until they set off on their rounds again, listening for their footsteps to recede, then she silently moved through the room behind their backs and up the stairs.

She froze at the top of the stairs, seeing a Thalmor wizard in profile as he stared down the hallway. She watched and waited, making sure he wasn't about to move, then she continued on her way behind him, silent as a ghost. She made her way down the hall to the right then realized it was a dead end and she would have to pass the mer, something she had no chance of successfully doing without risking attack. There was really only one thing she could do, and it made her soul squirm to contemplate it. It was one thing to sneak up behind a bandit or a necromancer, but to cold-bloodedly stab a mer in the back was entirely different. He was Thalmor, so his hands were by no means clean, but still, it wasn't an easy thing to consider doing.

In the end she had no choice, and it was over in seconds, Dawnbreaker neatly taking off the Altmer's head, the quickest death she could give him, the only sound the thunk of his head hitting the floor and the soft whisper of black cloth then the solid thud of his body following. Bryn stared for a moment, wondering how she should feel, unable to summon up any strength of emotion over it, then she moved on.

It took some doing to fight her way through the number of guards in the courtyard, used to having Lydia at her back, but at least it was a clean fight. The summoned atronachs stacked the deck against her, and she focused her attention on the wizards, taking them out first, sending the Daedra back to Oblivion. She didn't use the _thu'um_, afraid the sound would echo through the embassy and alert further guards inside, and found it more difficult than expected to refrain from using it. It had become second nature to her much sooner than she had imagined it would.

Once the courtyard was cleared she moved into the ambassador's solar, overhearing a conversation between a Thalmor and a man named Gissur that sent a shiver of dread through her; she would have to go downstairs and see what was going on, see who the Thalmor had down there and if she could help. She sneaked to what looked to be an office area with a desk and found a chest, and she eased it open and felt a thrill of success over the stack of documents inside, along with a key. She squatted down and read the letter to Elenwen with distaste, knowing it referred to torture, but it seemed to verify Bryn's belief that the Thalmor had nothing to do with the return of the dragons. She opened one of the small files and to her surprise found a short dossier on Delphine; she scanned it and set it aside, finding it of little interest, though it did make the reasons for the older woman's paranoia clear.

When Bryn opened the next file her breath caught in her throat. _Thalmor Dossier: Ulfric Stormcloak_. She stared at the title page then glanced up in alarm at the sound of footsteps and stuffed the three documents in her pack. She waited for the sound to pass then headed for the stairs down to find a way out, still not satisfied that she had found everything she was looking for.

The smell of blood hit her nose as she came through the downstairs door, and she crept to the railing to see what was clearly a torture chamber. Some poor soul was chained to the wall in a cell, a Justiciar warrior entering as he whimpered in terror. Her stomach turning, Bryn didn't waste time watching or listening and hurried down the stairs, coming up behind the one she assumed was Rulindil and taking his head off as cleanly as she had the first Thalmor she had encountered. The Altmer soldier cried out in fury and came running out of the cell, and she was easily dispatched with _YOL_ and Dawnbreaker. Meridia's gift worked best on draugr and other undead but was still quite useful on the living, as long as they weren't fire-resistant Dunmer.

Bryn quickly freed and healed the man, one Etienne Rarnis, a thief from Riften, and gave him an Elven dagger to defend himself while she quickly searched the bodies and the nearby chest. Another dossier lay inside on the man the thief had just told her about, Esbern, and Bryn took that as well and was turning to tell the man to start looking for a way out when she heard voices coming through the door. She cursed softly when she saw Malborn between two Justiciars.

"We know you're down there, spy," one of them called. "We have your accomplice."

She darted upstairs and dispatched the two Elves, glad that Malborn had the sense to stay out of the way. He wasn't particularly grateful to be rescued either, something that irritated Bryn greatly.

"I hope it was worth it," Malborn stated, glaring hotly at Bryn as she cut his bonds. "Now the Thalmor are going to be hunting me the rest of my life."

"At least you have a life," she retorted, searching the two guards. "Did you want to spend the rest of it serving them, knowing what they did to your family?" He didn't answer, and she shoved a weapon into his hand. "I appreciate your help, truly. It won't be in vain."

"Really," he drawled. "How so?"

She snorted and headed down the stairs, hearing him follow. "I found the documents I was looking for, and I have the feeling the Thalmor will find much more enticing prey to hunt after this."

"Who, you?" he said in derision.

"I've killed ten Thalmor tonight, single-handedly. I carry a Daedric artifact. Does that seem like nothing to you?" She pulled her mask back down, seeing the thief over by a trap door. Hopefully one of the keys she had just pocketed unlocked it.

"No, of course not, it's just…Delphine never told me who you were, just that you were some kind of specialist, and then some _girl_ shows up," he said in a halting tone, unsettled by the glitter of her eyes behind the metal mask as she turned on him.

"Some girl," she laughed. "Oh Malborn, I wish I was just some girl. I think I'm going to leave it at that, for now. In days to come you'll find out exactly what I am and you'll wish you had spoken with a touch more respect." She had come to expect a certain measure of it lately. Having Lydia with her most of the time kept her humble, but it was hard not to feel a bit of pride at having accomplished this particular mission on her own. She had hit the Thalmor where it hurt, struck down the serpents in their own lair, where they had felt safest. There was no way the party guests and servants could have been shielded completely from what was going on, especially when Malborn had been taken away, so word would spread that someone had infiltrated the embassy and slaughtered the Altmer within.

Tonight was going to upset the Thalmor a great deal, and Elenwen in particular, and the emissary was going to waste no effort in trying to find out who Bryn was. It would take her a little while to find out, but once she did the game would be on. She wasn't particularly bothered by the notion of them coming after her, confident now in her ability to handle nearly any foe, but she did have concerns about those close to her ending up suffering for this once the Thalmor figured out who she was. The guard who had looked at her party invitation had seen her name on it, and she had a rather distinctive look. And then there was that snake Maven. It angered Bryn all over again that Delphine had involved her in this. So now they knew the Thalmor weren't behind the dragon attacks; big deal. It changed nothing.

Malborn took off at a sprint the moment they were out of the Reeking Cave, and Bryn didn't try to stop him or call him back. She turned to Etienne, who shivered in the intense cold; he was wearing Elven gear stripped from the soldier who had been torturing him, awkward but better than the thin rags he had been wearing. He noticed her attention and said, "You didn't have to help me, so…thanks."

"You're welcome," she answered. "Will you be all right?" He was Breton by his looks and his name, and so had no resistance at all to the chill.

"If I don't freeze to death between here and Riften."

"Here," Bryn offered, digging in her pack. She gave him a couple minor healing potions and trail rations along with a hundred gold. "Take a wagon from Solitude to Riften, and make sure you sell that armor first. The fewer people who see you running around in it the better." She had considered taking some for herself but it was just asking for trouble. She wished though that she had been able to snag a set of the glass armor she had seen one of the Justiciars wearing. Now _that_ was definitely some nice armor, though she didn't yet have the skill to work it to adjust the fit to her. She was as tall as an Altmer but heavier. She had to wonder just how much heavier she was going to continue getting. The more time she spent adventuring the bulkier she got. It was all lean muscle but it was hard sometimes not to hear that little voice in her head whisper _'Nord cow!'_

"Well then," he said in astonishment. "I…thank you."

"You're a member of the Thieves Guild, aren't you." He licked his lips, looking uncomfortable. She hesitated then said, "A day will come when there will be a reckoning for both the Guild and Maven Black-Briar. I would try to be elsewhere on that day if I were you."

"Noted," he muttered.

"It's nothing personal against the Guild, mind you, though your activities offend me. Maven however…that is very personal." The older woman had made it that way when she'd sent the Dark Brotherhood after Bryn. It hadn't been necessary and yet Maven had done it anyway.

"Yeah, she has a way of making it like that. Well, I'm off."

"Sure."

Etienne took off at a jog and she let him go as she took a few minutes to eat something herself and read the dossier on Ulfric before heading back to Solitude to collect Lydia. It turned her stomach to read the file, and it made things quite suddenly clearer. Most veterans of the Great War despised the Thalmor and detested the treaty that had given so much away that they had fought for, but Ulfric had an especially good reason to hate them. The thing was, Ulfric had played right into their hands all along. He still was doing so. Bryn had seen how his actions weakened Skyrim before ever reading this dossier. Her heart ached for him though. He had been so young then, barely twenty, and already had men under his command, able to Shout from his studies with the Greybeards. So much promise, gone so very wrong. Her memories of him in Helgen were vivid...that voice that was like velvet over steel, the sea-colored eyes that blazed with utter hatred for the Imperials as they rode in the cart. He had been a very striking man, if not handsome. Certainly not anywhere near as handsome as her Vilkas.

She tucked the dossier into her pack, determined to keep hold of it, and keep it with her, from now on. She and Lydia had decided a week ago that Bryn would be best served by becoming thane in all the holds, even if it ended up being a bit awkward. The title was honorary, mainly, and required Bryn to simply have a meal with the Jarl once in a while and offer advice and her services when they were asked for. That would entail a lot of running around to spend time in each hold, but they both felt it would be useful to have all the Jarls of Skyrim beholden to Bryn in some way. And the people as well. If Bryn became well-known in all nine holds, and thane to all the Jarls of those holds, it couldn't hurt one bit. So far Bryn was thane in only Whiterun, The Rift and Hjaalmarch, and would be in Haafingar once she came up with the money to buy that big lovely Proudspire Manor; she had dabbled in The Pale and Winterhold a bit but hadn't traveled to their respective capitals. She had touched on only the southern parts of Eastmarch.

Bryn was determined to make Eastmarch her next targeted hold, intrigued by Ulfric, more so now that she had read the dossier. It might even become necessary to show it to him, once she had become his thane and earned his trust. She had to wonder if that was possible without joining the Stormcloaks, which she would never do. She would never join the Legion either, so maybe that would be enough to promise him. She would go to his hold and his city as soon as possible to get started on that, but first she had to return to Delphine to get the rest of her gear back. Then she would stop in Whiterun for a while so she and Lydia could spend some time with their beloveds. She had made sure this time that she had written to Vilkas at least once a week so he wouldn't get so anxious. She hadn't received any letters back, but they had agreed before she left that it would be silly for him to send any when she moved around so frequently. Unless there was something she urgently needed to know he wouldn't be sending any. At this point there was no reason to send one back; once she collected Lydia she was heading home, and if Delphine had anything more for her to do it would have to wait.


	15. Chapter 15

Bryn handed Lars Battle-Born a gold septim and the boy hooted in delight and scampered up the road to Jorrvaskr, to go fetch Farkas and/or Vilkas. It was mid-day so someone was bound to be around, though since it was raining it was unlikely anyone would be out in the training yard. Lydia unlocked Breezehome and let them in, clucking her tongue at the musty smell of the place. "Home sweet home," Bryn said in a sour tone. "So much for enjoying it."

"I meant what I said, my thane," Lydia stated firmly as she threw her heavy pack down and moved to start a fire. "If Vilkas isn't able to go with you, I'm going."

Bryn sighed, "We already went over this. Over, under and around it every which way. One of us should have a life, and it certainly won't be me. I want you to stay here, with Farkas. I hate the house being empty and cold like this. If I can't be here and make it a home, you should."

"All right, enough of that," Lydia scolded, steering Bryn over to sit in front of the cold fire pit.

"I don't have time for this," she said in a worried tone. "The Thalmor are probably already in Riften looking for Esbern."

"Sit!" Lydia barked as her lady began to rise to her feet, and Bryn sputtered and fell back into the chair. "I promised Vilkas two months ago that you wouldn't be going anywhere alone. That whole business with the Embassy was really pushing it."

"That whole business with the Embassy should reassure you that I can handle myself."

"That whole business with the Embassy stirred up a hornet's nest," Lydia said in a tone of aggravation as she struck sparks into the tinder. "Delphine had to have known what the repercussions would be. Did she honestly think that they wouldn't try to find you? You'll find yourself with an Elven or glass arrow in your back this time. They're going to figure out who you are and start hunting you."

Bryn rolled her eyes and pulled off her gauntlets and let them drop to the floor. "You don't know Altmer. They'll come at me face first, yelling some grand pronouncement at me so that I'll know who's going to kill me and why. Their pomposity and arrogance won't allow them to shoot me in the back. In fact I wouldn't put it past them to try to capture me instead, to try to get information out of me. They do seem to get a kick out of torturing people." She hadn't been able to stop thinking about the dossier on Ulfric that she had read. Couldn't help wondering what exactly had been done to him, and how those things that had been done to him had affected his behavior and decisions all these years. It certainly explained the seething hatred in his eyes during that ride in the cart. She couldn't imagine how helpless he had felt, being a captive again.

"You say that like it's a good thing!" Lydia cried. "Great Divines, you're going to be the death of me from sheer stress. You don't have nearly a healthy enough sense of self-preservation. You're starting to get cocky, too, because of 'that whole business with the Embassy'. Vilkas is going to go wild when he hears about it." Word traveled fast, carried by couriers, khajit traders, and wandering Bards. Bryn and Lydia had fled Solitude right away, avoiding roads and settlements as much as possible, and had made better time than even a fleet-footed courier could, but word wouldn't be far behind.

"Better that he hears it from me, then." She pushed herself out of the chair and Lydia grumbled but stayed focused on getting a fire going to warm and dry the house. Bryn hauled her pack off the ground to take her portion of the dragon scales and bones to the chest in the alchemy lab, then she decided to brew up a few potions from the large numbers of flowers and mushrooms she had gathered on the way home, before they mildewed or spoiled. It would give her something to do while she waited for Vilkas.

A few minutes later the front door flew open and she heard a happy "Hey, there's my girl!" and Lydia's glad cry in response, then Bryn's spirits fell when she heard a worried whisper from her housecarl. And didn't hear Vilkas' voice. Bryn set down the mortar and pestle and came out from the back room and peeked between the stair treads to see Farkas and Lydia holding each other, but Vilkas was nowhere to be seen. As Farkas closed the door Bryn came out, and when he noticed her he breathed a sigh of relief and let go of Lydia to sweep Bryn off her feet in a bear hug.

"And there's my next favorite girl in the world," he stated. He held her out at arm's length and she smiled hesitantly and patted his bearded cheek. "Hey, I'm sorry, Vilkas just left this morning for Rorikstead, with Athis and Ria. You missed him by just a few hours."

"Aw hell," Lydia sighed sadly, coming over to join them. Farkas took them in each arm and held them close, and when Lydia looked at Bryn's face she seemed about ready to cry. Lydia squeezed her shoulder and said, "I mean it, I'm going with you."

"And I say you're not," Bryn said in a lowered voice, pushing away from Farkas, but he caught her arm before she got far.

He said with disapproval, "You'd better not be thinking of running off on your own again."

"I have to. Lydia needs to stay here."

"Why? I mean, that would be nice, but—"

"Because she feels doomed to always be alone and miserable," Lydia said in a chiding tone, looking at her mistress. "So she wants me here at Breezehome cuddling with you all nice and cozy so it can warm her heart while she's off being a hero."

"Vilkas would kill us both if we did that," he said to Bryn. "He told me when he left to keep an eye out for you while he was gone, and go with you if Lydia couldn't."

"I'm not staying here without you!" Lydia protested.

"I know. So we'll both go with her." Bryn sighed heavily. Both women looked tired and grimy. He asked, "And just why do you need to run off again anyway? Stay here and wait for Vilkas. He was really upset this morning when he had to go, but I took the last big job, and Skjor before that, so it was his turn, and he'll be back in a few days. Skjor and Aela can hold down Jorrvaskr while I'm gone." Bryn didn't protest, a bad sign. He ruffled her cornsilk hair and headed for the door, calling over his shoulder, "And just how long will we be gone? And where?"

Bryn rubbed her eyes and quietly said, "Riften. There's someone there in danger, imminent danger. I need to go today, now. The Thalmor are after him. I'm hoping to be gone only long enough to get him out of danger, then come home and rest for a while."

"You'd better. You girls get cleaned up and have something to eat while I fill in the others and get geared up. Give me half an hour, okay?"

Bryn didn't answer, turning away to go back into the alchemy room, and Lydia called out to him, "Sounds good." The door closed and Lydia followed Bryn into the room, smelling a bitter, pungent mixture of nirnroot and nightshade. Deadly. She said to her mistress, "Finish that up while I straighten out our kit, my thane. Then we'll sell off some of this extra junk to Warmaiden's and Belethor. Need to start saving up the gold to buy Proudspire Manor."

"Sure." She felt Lydia's eyes on her back as the housecarl didn't move, and she prompted, "Yes?"

"I'm worried about you."

"I'm tired, that's all."

Lydia was sure that wasn't all, but could tell by the brittle tone of Bryn's voice that it would be a bad idea to push it right now. "Yes, my thane. I'm going to heat up some water so we can at least wash before we go." Bryn nodded. Lydia began stripping off her armor on the way back to the fire pit. She was tired too, but not in the way Bryn was; Lydia was physically fatigued from their flight from Solitude, but Bryn seemed soul-tired. Extended time on the road never sat well with her lady. Bryn probably would have been fine if Vilkas had been able to go along with her, but it had seemed to wound something in her a little that he was gone, and missing him by only a few hours made it even worse. Farkas would have to do, and Lydia was deeply relieved to have him along. She regretted not being able to stay here with him for a while, but at least they would be together on the road, able to talk and simply be around each other, and Farkas was able to cheer Bryn where Lydia couldn't. If nothing else they would have another (very) strong arm with them in case the Thalmor attacked, and they would have to make sure to fill Farkas in as soon as they hit the road so he knew exactly what they might encounter. Farkas would also stay calm where Vilkas might not.

An hour later they were on the road east, and Bryn stayed mostly silent as Lydia chatted happily with her lover, who seemed equally happy in his responses. Not much had happened in Whiterun while they were gone; Kodlak was doing a little better, after Arcadia had hit upon a recipe for a potion that numbed his pain for a few hours at a time, though it made him somewhat sleepy; the Jarl's youngest son Nelkir was giving him trouble again; Fralia Gray-Mane was still mourning the disappearance of her son Thorald and telling everyone who would listen that the Battle-Borns were responsible. Bryn thought she might talk to Eorlund's wife when she got back, to see if it was something she could help her with. Bryn very much doubted that the other family would do something so heinous, especially when they had once been so close; Thorald and Idolaf had been best friends growing up.

They were crossing over the river and heading up the mountainside when Farkas hit his forehead and exclaimed, "Vilkas!" This spot had reminded him of his brother all of a sudden; this was where his twin had unfortunately been forced to change two months ago. He came to a stop and turned his back to Lydia, saying, "Dig out the letter on top of my pack, punkin. Vilkas left it with me for Bryn, in case you guys came back before he did. I totally forgot about it."

"Punkin?" Lydia laughed.

"Sorry, that was the best I could come up with."

"It's more than good enough," she assured him. He winked at her and she laughed again, warm all over. Two months they had been apart and things were as sweet and easy between them as if it hadn't even been a day. She handed the letter to Bryn, her smile fading when she saw her thane's stony expression. Bryn stared at the letter then took it and stuffed it into the front of her armor then started walking again. Lydia sighed and watched her go, realizing that Bryn hadn't said a word since leaving Whiterun half an hour prior. Lydia and Farkas had been so focused on each other that she had hardly crossed their minds. She glanced at her beloved and he was watching Bryn with a frown, seeing for himself that something was wrong. It seemed something always was, and it alternately pained and exasperated the housecarl. No matter what Lydia did, she couldn't seem to keep up the other woman's spirits for any length of time.

The sound of someone heavy running up behind her made Bryn gasp and start to turn, then she was scooped up in two strong arms like a child, making her squeal in surprise. "Farkas!" she cried.

"Yeah, little bird?" He grunted. "Except you're not so little anymore."

"Farkas!" Lydia exclaimed in dismay. She knew Bryn was sensitive about her weight.

"It's all muscle. It's not like she's fat." He motioned with his head towards Lydia. "She's gotten more muscle on her too. It's a good thing. Nord women should be strong." He grinned at Bryn and added, "Besides, you need to be able to kick my brother's ass when he gets out of line."

Bryn smiled briefly then said, "If I ever get to spend more than a few days at a time around him, maybe so."

"You will when we get back. Read the letter."

"Maybe later. When we camp for the night."

Farkas rolled his eyes. "You two were made for each other. Always making things more complicated than they need to be. Read the damn letter before it starts raining again or I'm going to walk over and dump you in the river." Bryn grumbled and pulled out the letter as Farkas set her on her feet again.

"What if the letter makes me cry?"

"Yeah, because Lydia and I have never seen you cry. Right." He turned away and went to Lydia to give Bryn at least a little bit of privacy.

She turned her back to them anyway, knowing she probably would cry. She didn't want to see them being sweet to each other while she was reading words Vilkas had written in loneliness, feeling lonely herself. Bryn was happy for them, but it hurt too. She broke the plain beeswax seal on the letter and began to read, realizing this was the first time she had seen Vilkas' handwriting. Her own script was heavily slanted and flowery, having learned to read and write Altmeris first as a child; Vilkas' was square, precise printing, beautiful in its own masculine way. When she saw the opening words it nearly made her lose it immediately.

_My dearest love,_

_ I had hoped to see you when you returned, but if you're reading this letter it is obviously not meant to be. I've been called away on a job that I can't put off. A citizen of The Reach has been kidnapped by Foresworn, and as usual the hold guards are too busy with the war to be spared. It seems the safety of their citizens should be the Jarls' first priority, but who am I to say. It keeps us in business._

_ I've missed you terribly while you've been gone. A few times it was so bad that I considered breaking into Breezehome and sleeping in your bed, but there's no back door and I'm not the sneaky little thief you are, and I've managed to avoid the Whiterun jail so far, so… I've been as good as my word and have never taken off the bracelet, and never will. I hope you're keeping that amulet of Talos tucked away. I would hate to have to mount a daring raid to rescue you from some Thalmor prison. I would do it though. I would walk through fire for you, dive off a cliff for you, so going through a few of those pointy-eared bastards should amount to nothing. Still, let's try to avoid that._

Bryn couldn't help laughing a bit at that, imagining the dry way he would say it while smirking at her.

_ I have to go, but know that I love you, I love you more than anything, more than life. I knew I loved you our second morning together, when I woke and your face was the first thing I saw. I knew then that I was lost, and even if I had never felt it before for anyone, I knew what it was. The rest of my life I will never lose that feeling, even with all the time we've spent apart. I've missed you every day, and it's maddening to think that you might come back then leave again while I'm gone. I keep praying to Mara that somehow she will let us be together for more than a few days or hours at a time, but so far she doesn't seem to be listening too well to me. If you can't stay, then next time you head out I'm going with you, and I don't care what you or Lydia have to say about it. I can't tolerate these weeks apart and I am lost without you._

_Your beloved Vilkas_

Lydia made a sound of sorrow as Bryn started to sob miserably. She hurried to her mistress and put her arms around her, Farkas following, and when Bryn sensed him she threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his neck. Lydia rubbed her back, tears pricking her eyes, then she took the letter from Bryn to keep her from crushing it. She quickly folded it without reading it, tempting as it was to take a peek, and slid it into the pocket of Bryn's pack that held her journal.

Saddened, Farkas held her tightly and murmured, "Pretty mushy, huh?"

"Yes!" Bryn wailed.

"Well, he's always been better with words than me." He kissed Bryn's temple and held her for as long as she wanted, which was quite a while. That was perfectly fine with him.

Bryn eventually felt her tears start to dry up, but it was so hard to let go of Farkas who was Vilkas' height, who even smelled a little like him. It was impossible to look at his face and not see Vilkas in it. The words in the brief letter repeated in her mind, sweet yet excruciating. He prayed to Mara for them to be together. Bryn couldn't help hoping that someday he would truly mean that and ask her to marry him. Their time apart would be so much less painful if they were married, if she had a husband at home waiting for her, someone who loved her so much that he wanted to belong to her in the eyes of Mara, and her to him. She didn't understand how he could be so jealous of Balimund, how he could weep over the thought of her dying, and not want to marry her. It just didn't make any sense.

As Lydia wiped her tears Bryn vowed that if he didn't ask her by mid-winter then she would have to be the one to press the issue. Maramal and his wife Dinya had assured her that long, complicated courtships were simply not how things were done up here. Maybe while she was in Riften this time she would stop in and talk more to the priestess and ask her advice, more specifically this time; Bryn had been rather vague before about her reasons for asking about love and marriage. Maybe if she laid everything out the priestess could tell her what she was doing wrong. Maybe she wasn't doing anything wrong and it was nothing more than all their time apart, and Bryn didn't know how to fix that. She had to keep doing what she was doing. But if she knew that at the end of it she would have a home and a husband and children, it would all be so much easier to bear.

* * *

Iona gasped and drew back her war axe just in time to keep from splitting Bryn's head open. "My thane!" she cried in mixed shock and anger. "Begging your pardon, but can you not use the front door?" Bryn had never come in through the back door by the lake before, though to be fair she had only owned the house for two weeks before leaving Riften. If Iona had heard the sound of a key turning that would have been one thing, but she'd had to listen to ten seconds of someone picking the lock and assumed it was one of the many thieves that plagued this town. She had never dreamed her own mistress would do such a thing.

"No, I can't," Bryn said quietly. She patted Iona's shoulder and gave her a brief smile, but the housecarl was too busy staring in dismay at the big man coming through after her, followed by a smaller woman, to notice. Iona stood aside and cleared her throat, closing the door behind them, and Bryn said with regret, "I'm sorry we startled you. I wanted to avoid the front gates."

"Yes, my thane."

Bryn stared at her for a moment then asked, "You don't even want to know why?"

"It isn't my place to ask, my thane."

"Huh," Farkas grunted, giving Lydia a wry look. "You could learn a thing or two." Lydia rolled her eyes, unimpressed. Farkas wasn't impressed by the Riften housecarl either. Saying she was stiff was being kind. It was no wonder Bryn had found her hard to warm up to.

Bryn threw her pack down and told her friends, "Go ahead and get comfortable. I'm not going down there after dark."

"Down there?" Iona asked with worry. "My thane, please tell me you aren't going into the Ratway again!"

"Yes, I am. Do you know if Maven is back yet?"

"Honestly, I didn't know she was gone, my thane. I don't involve myself in Lady Black-Briar's affairs."

"Wise move," Farkas stated, moving through the bedroom to the warmth of the dining area.

Iona made a sound of offense as he sat down at the table and pulled off his boots with a sigh of relief then threw them on the floor, and Bryn said, "Oh Iona, I'm so sorry. My manners are awful. Our guests are Farkas of the Companions, and this is Lydia. My friend and um, housecarl from Whiterun." She suddenly felt terribly awkward as the two women stared at each other, then before Lydia could offer her hand she nodded curtly and looked away.

The redhead said in a brisk tone, "Well then, my thane, will you need some hot water for washing? Something to eat?"

Lydia offered to Iona, "Please, I would be glad to help. I can see to dinner, if you would help Lady Brynhilde. She's terribly tired."

"Yes, of course," Iona said after a brief hesitation. She recognized a peace offering when she saw one, and she wasn't about to make things awkward for her thane. She couldn't seem to help doing that most of the time regardless, but no need to make it worse. She raised her voice and said to Farkas, "I am honored to have a Companion and my lady's Shield-Brother under this roof."

Farkas nodded to her and said, "I appreciate your hospitality. I hope we're not imposing."

"Not at all." She looked at Lydia and said, "I'm afraid I have only a small bit of chowder simmering in the pot. If you could add to it and start some hot water for bathing, I will see to our lady." Lydia gave her a brief smile and went to join Farkas in the dining area. It was fairly obvious from the soft way they murmured to each other that they were a couple. It made Iona feel like an outsider in her own house to have Bryn's parallel life suddenly intrude like this. Determined to make the best of it, Iona turned to Bryn and said, "Let me help you out of your armor, my thane. And…perhaps I should know why you came in the back door."

She signed, "Oh Iona, I don't even know where to start. I'm so tired I can hardly think straight."

"Yes, my thane."

As the other woman helped her unbuckle her armor she explained, "The Thalmor might be headed this way. They're after a man who might be down in the Ratway. I avoided the gates to avoid any snitches that might be wandering around. Hopefully no one was watching the house from the docks, but I didn't see anyone."

"A wise decision, my thane. However maybe next time you should take a key, and not pick the lock?" Lydia and Farkas both snorted and Bryn burst into laughter, the first Iona had really heard from her, and she couldn't help a small smile in return.

"Oh, that's too funny! Yes, next time I will definitely take a key. I suppose that did look pretty bad, sneaking in the back door like that, especially in this town. Thank Talos for your reflexes or I'd have quite the headache right now."

Farkas called out from the other room, "You wouldn't have to worry so much about getting your head split open if you wore a helmet."

Bryn shook her head and sank down on the edge of the bed to remove her boots, smelling lavender. The house was certainly fresh and tidy, unlike poor empty Breezehome. Bryn had loved Honeyside since the moment she walked through the doors, though it wasn't as cozy as the Whiterun house. She replied to Farkas, "You're as bad as Vilkas. I hate helmets. They make my head hot and my hair all sweaty."

"Yeah, well at least you'd have a head to get hot and sweaty."

"Maybe I'll get a circlet."

"And what the hell good would that do?" he retorted as he headed to the back door to get some fish for Lydia.

"They can be enchanted to provide some protection. Farengar showed me how. In fact while I'm here I think I'll disenchant some things, practice a little."

"Ugh, magic."

"It's just another tool, big bear." Farengar frequently suggested she consider applying to the College of Winterhold if she had the aptitude for magic, but she still wasn't sure that she did. The skill of enchanting that he had shown her actually hadn't been difficult to grasp, and she had easily learned to strengthen her healing skills from Danica. Maybe she did have the ability to learn and her aunt simply hadn't been the right teacher for her. Both Danica and Farengar were Nords. Maybe humans had to learn magic differently than Altmer, who had magic running in their blood. Bryn was a half-elf, so surely she must have the ability to learn at least a little useful magic other than healing. She had been raised with the idea that magic was a skill like any other, a tool. Maybe if she did ever find the time she could take a trip up there and check out the College. She had two interesting amulet fragments that she had found, one in a barrow near Ivarstead that Klimmek had told her about, the other in Folgunthur up near Solitude, that she wanted their advice on. The third part was supposedly in Saarthal but rumor had it that the College had an active archaeological dig going there and she wasn't about to just wander in and get in their way.

If she handed over the amulet fragments and the associated documents she had found to the College, they could take it from there, but she wouldn't mind getting some additional training in enchanting and healing while she was in Winterhold. She just hoped it wouldn't entail becoming a full-blown member. She just didn't have the time or energy to take on any additional duties. For now all she wanted was to get this Esbern fellow back to Delphine, and the Blade would have to manage on her own after that. For all this 'serving and protecting' of the Dragonborn that the Blades were supposed to be doing, she hadn't seen much of it. All she had been so far was Delphine's errand girl, and the Embassy fiasco was the last straw. She was taking a break after this and everything else could wait, Alduin be damned.

* * *

"And be careful," Vekel warned. "You're not the only one looking for him."

"Yes, thank you," Bryn said with a nod. The barkeep went back to polishing the counter and she turned away, heading for the door down to the Ratway, Lydia and Farkas following. Farkas had a look of distaste on his face, and Bryn didn't blame him. It didn't smell quite as foul here around the cistern as the rest of the Ratway did, but it was still rank, and he probably had a strong sense of smell, or so she guessed. She had been glad to see that someone had removed the bodies of the lowlifes she had disposed of a few months ago, or else the smell would be a lot worse. She was surprised that Vekel had given her the information so easily, but then she supposed kicking Dirge's ass in front of everyone in a brawl had driven home that she meant business. She wasn't in any mood to be diplomatic, and the Thieves' Guild was living on borrowed time anyway, and from their glares they most likely knew it.

As they closed the door behind them Bryn held up her hand for quiet, and Farkas and Lydia froze; a Thalmor wizard was guarding the archway across from them, and a golden-armored soldier was on the level below. Easy pickings. Bryn silently removed her bow and took aim, hitting the wizard square in the back, killing him instantly. Two soldiers came running up from below and Bryn stood aside to hit them with arrows while Lydia and Farkas did the bulk of the fighting.

Bryn moved surely through the sewers, knowing her way, in fact she was fairly certain that she knew now where Esbern was holed up. There was an odd door in one area, above the room where a retired soldier named Salvianus dwelt; the poor man was half insane from what he had seen and done during the Great War but was essentially harmless. Bryn had taken him food once, and while he had accepted it gratefully he had clearly wanted to be left alone.

They encountered no other opposition or Thalmor, and when they reached the door Bryn whispered to her companions, "Maybe you should stay out of sight. If what Delphine said is true, he's extremely paranoid." They nodded and went around the corner into a nook. Bryn grit her teeth at how noisily they moved, but with all the dripping water and creak of stone it probably went unnoticed. Bryn raised her hand and knocked on the door.

The old man was every bit as jittery as Delphine had said, and she couldn't help feeling sorry for him. She wondered just what the poor man had been through to end up living his life like this. Once she told him she was Dragonborn however he changed his tune, and after sitting through nearly half a minute of listening to him undoing the many locks and chains on the door he ushered her inside.

The reverence with which Esbern treated her soothed some of the sting of doing the Blades' bidding. He at least seemed to respect what she was and didn't view her as nothing but a tool, as Delphine did. She stood waiting at the door while he gathered up his things, leaving most of his belongings behind. It was sad to watch all the items that had obviously been accumulated over many years simply abandoned, but he clearly didn't care, his eyes sparkling as he murmured to himself and kept casting his eyes over her.

"Dragonborn, here, in my lifetime!" he whispered in excitement as he hitched his backpack over his shoulders and rejoined her. "Show me the way to Delphine, but careful now. I've heard the denizens down here talking about Thalmor agents sniffing around."

"Yes, we've already encountered a few," she replied.

"Uh…we?"

"I was going to warn you about that. I have associates with me, a man and a woman, my Shield-Brother and my housecarl." The old man looked worried, anxious, and she added, "I trust them with my life and all my soul. You can as well, I swear to you."

"Well then, if the Dragonborn says so, it must be."

She opened the door and looked around, seeing no one, then whispered, "All right, let's go." Farkas and Lydia appeared out of their nook, making Esbern recoil, but Bryn patted him on the arm and said, "It's all right. Please, stay in the middle. Lydia and I will take the front and Farkas will follow. Once we're out of the Ratway, we'll circle around the canal and come up near Honeyside, my home, and stay there for—"

"No, no, I must get to Delphine immediately!" he protested in a panic. "No delays!"

"Fine," she sighed. She looked at her friends and they nodded in agreement. She'd warned Iona that this might happen, so at least the housecarl wouldn't worry unduly.

They made their way out of the Ratway with only a small amount of trouble, encountering two more groups of Thalmor, one group accompanied by the man she had seen talking to Rulindil in the embassy: Gissur. A note on his body confirmed it. Bryn was surprised when Esbern conjured a hulking frost atronach to aid in the fights, something that seemed to shock and dismay Farkas and Lydia. The old man certainly seemed capable, an asset even. While the magic unsettled her Nord companions Bryn was unfazed by it, and glad that she wouldn't have to baby the old fellow on the way to Riverwood.

After they left the Ratway a commotion at street level drew Bryn's attention, and she saw a female khajit being attacked by Balimund of all people, assisted by Marise Aravel. Between Balimund's brawn and the Dunmer's destruction magic it was quickly over, before Bryn could join in. Balimund noticed her with her small group and held out his hand for her to stay where she was, and after looking around he came down to join them.

"The cat was asking around about you," he stated gravely. "Started getting pushy, saying the Thalmor wouldn't tolerate anyone hiding heretics and traitors." He snorted. "Yeah, well Riften doesn't tolerate Thalmor agents, or anyone hunting our own."

Bryn smiled gratefully at him and squeezed his shoulder, saying, "You're a good man, my friend."

"Any time." He looked at her friends and said, "I see a Companion among you, and a member of the Circle at that. I'm honored."

Farkas held out his hand and Balimund shook it. Farkas said, "Name is Farkas, and the pleasure is mine. Little sister here has had a lot of good things to say about you."

"Well, as long as they're good," he said with amusement. He didn't bother asking about the other two; it wasn't his business, and the less he knew the better. He chucked Bryn under the chin and said, "Looks like you're on the run, but when things settle back down… You know you're always welcome here. The people here need you."

"I'll come back soon, I promise," she stated, looking away from the warmth in his eyes. She glanced at Farkas and he had a carefully neutral expression on his face, though he met her eyes. She licked her lips and sighed, and when she looked back at Balimund he was watching Farkas with an odd look. Esbern cleared his throat and she murmured, "Yes, we'll get going."

Balimund tore his eyes away from the big warrior, feeling a keen disappointment along with something akin to relief. So it wasn't something about him personally that was holding Bryn back. The blond beauty was either Farkas' lover or had feelings for him. He couldn't blame her for it; a settled, quiet life with a blacksmith couldn't compare to a life of excitement and adventure with a Shield-Brother. He smiled at Bryn and saw the understanding in her eyes, along with sorrow, and it made him feel better. He'd just come along too late, that was all. She was still a friend, and things could always change. He nodded upstairs and said, "Gotta get back to the forge. You take care, all right?"

"I will, Balimund. Thank you for your help."

"You're quite welcome. Now skiddaddle."

Bryn snorted a laugh and motioned for the others to follow, and they were quickly around the canal, up the stairs and out of Riften with no further trouble. She said to Esbern, "We can take a wagon to Whiterun if—"

"No, absolutely not," the old man said with a shake of his head. "Cross country, and no major roads or towns."

"All right then, let's go."

"Yes, Dragonborn."

They made good time, going cross-country and avoiding main roads as Esbern had demanded. They camped for the evening just past Sarethi Farm, far enough away to not trouble the Dunmer sisters who ran it in case Thalmor came along. Farkas started a fire and Lydia began preparing a dinner stew while Bryn laid out the bedrolls and Esbern tried to stay out of the way, watching their surroundings anxiously. The old man had said almost nothing as they traveled, though the pace they had set was so brisk that he probably hadn't had the breath to. Bryn knew from his dossier that he was in his late seventies, but he seemed quite spry.

Esbern noticed her attention and gave her a brief smile. "I must say, Dragonborn, you aren't what I expected," he said in a hesitant tone.

"Really," she said dryly. "What were you expecting, a big brawny Nord man cast in the mold of Tiber Septim himself?"

"Well, yes."

"Sorry, you've got a big brawny half-breed Nord girl instead."

"Half-breed," he said in confusion.

"I'm half Altmer."

"What!" he gasped in horror. "You're…merciful Akatosh, you…you are a half-Elf?"

Hearing the conversation and deeply offended by it, Lydia said to him, "Do you have a problem with that, elder?" The old man's mouth worked wordlessly as he stared at Bryn in dismay. She went on angrily, "What does it matter what her heritage is? She's as Dragonborn as Talos himself, if not more so. Talos never devoured the souls of dragons the way my lady has. By time she's done she'll be a greater hero than Tiber Septim ever was!"

He stammered, "Well, I…I meant no offense. I just…well, I'm completely and utterly astonished, that is all."

"Really, that's all."

Bryn murmured, "It's all right, Lydia."

"No, it is not all right! I will have you treated with the respect you deserve, and so far the Blades have shown you almost none. I hope to hell we run into a couple dragons on the way to Riverwood so he understands exactly who and what you are." She turned back to the old man and added, "Maybe you should consider that there's a reason why the gods made the Dragonborn half Altmer. Even once the dragons are gone the land will keep tearing itself apart, at the Thalmor's urging, and what then?"

"Lydia please, that's enough," Bryn said more firmly, and her housecarl grumbled and turned back to cutting up vegetables for the stew. Esbern seemed chastened but was still staring at Bryn as if she had two heads. The look set her off all of a sudden. She snorted a bitter laugh and said, "You haven't even asked my name. I'm not a person to you people, am I? I'm a thing, an idea, a weapon. I came to Skyrim to learn about my mother's people and heritage, to find a husband and a home and have children, and before I even get into the country I'm bashed in the head and dragged into something I never asked for, and it hasn't stopped since. Maybe it should occur to you and Delphine that I am rather pissed about all this and give me a god damned break!"

Esbern whispered tremulously, "Yes Dragonborn! Uh, that is, Miss…oh…"

"Brynhilde. My damn name is Brynhilde," she snapped as she stood. He flinched back as she whipped out her bow, saying, "I'm going hunting."

Farkas said, "Not alone, you're not." Bryn growled, seething, her golden eyes glowing in the firelight, as angry as he had ever seen her. Lydia had seen it plenty, and it was as unsettling as she had said it was, though Farkas wasn't particularly intimidated by it. The old man looked terrified, staring at Bryn with wide eyes, as if afraid Bryn was going to start breathing fire. "We have enough meat for dinner," he stated. "If you're just looking to bash something's head in, you can spar with me, but no running off doing something dumb because you're mad."

"Yes I'm mad!" she hissed, her teeth bared. "My blood is boiling right now!"

"Yeah, I know. You and Vilkas are two of a kind, that's for sure."

Bryn nearly retorted that she didn't have beastblood to contend with but had enough sense not to go there in front of Lydia and Esbern. She huffed in aggravation and rubbed her hands over her face, trying to calm down, then she felt Farkas' hands on her shoulders as he moved behind her. He began kneading them and she blew out a long breath and closed her eyes as the anger instantly drained out of her.

"The dragon blood," Esbern whispered reverently. Bryn's eyes lazily opened, glittering, and he felt a shiver of mixed fear and delight. "Ancient lore says that those who are Dragonborn have not only the soul of a dragon, but the blood of dragons in their veins, that it burns as hot as the sun's fire in their anger."

"Plenty of people who aren't Dragonborn have bad tempers," she muttered. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Regardless, I regret angering you, Dragonborn. Brynhilde," he added. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes again, and Esbern took that as acceptance of his apology and sat down on his bedroll, determined to keep his mouth shut the rest of the night unless spoken to. It wouldn't do to alienate the Dragonborn, who it seemed wasn't happy at all about the honor that had been bestowed upon her at birth. In the morning he would try with more tact to get information about her background, which was intriguing now that he was over the shock. A half-Altmer Dragonborn! It was rather amusing, really. It was unfortunate though that Delphine seemed to have angered the girl already. He hadn't seen his fellow Blade in decades but he remembered her being known for her lack of diplomacy. He would have to caution her to tread more carefully in the future, or their only hope might turn on them, thereby dooming them all.


	16. Chapter 16

"Hail, Companions! Welcome home!"

Athis and Ria greeted the guard then continued on to Jorrvaskr, tired and footsore. Vilkas said to him, "Hail, Hjalki. How goes it? Little ones feeling better?"

"Aye, much better, thanks for asking. Kids, you know? Always with the puking or the snotty noses."

"So I've heard." He hesitated then asked, "Is ah…well, has Bryn come back yet?"

"Who?"

Vilkas stared at him for a moment as if he were brain-damaged, then he saw the guard smirk. Relieved, he snorted and turned away only to get the breath knocked out of him as Bryn jumped on him. He held her tightly as she squealed with happiness and wrapped her legs around him, just about squeezing the life out of him. He laughed and spun her around then gave her a deep kiss, earning whistles from the guards nearby.

"Hey you two, get a room," a different guard chided good-naturedly. "There's kids running around, you know."

Vilkas rolled his eyes and put his arm around Bryn's shoulders and led her back to the forge, where she had obviously just been working from the smudges of soot on her cheeks and the leather apron over her tunic and pants. Adrianne was nowhere to be seen, most likely resting inside as she often did this time of day; everyone had found out months ago that she was expecting, and she was about six months along at this point. He kissed Bryn's temple roughly and whispered, "Gods, I've missed you! You're not leaving town again without me, damn you. Two months is too long."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she replied, her arm going around his waist.

"How long have you been back?"

"Since last night. I…oh boy, where to start."

Worried, he turned her around to look her in the eyes. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, much dirtier than her from traveling. "What's wrong? Something happen I don't know about?"

"So you don't know. About the Thalmor Embassy."

"No, I've been on the road all this time." Bryn bit her lip and looked away, and he quietly said, "Put away whatever you're working on and come up to Jorrvaskr with me. I could use a bath, and some help washing."

"Of course," she said, his warm grin making her nearly breathless.

"You can tell me the bad news on the way." Bryn took off her apron and set it aside, and Vilkas' eyes widened at the sight of the sword at her waist. "Is that it?" he asked in amazement. "The sword you received from Meridia?"

"Dawnbreaker," she said with a nod. She drew it from the sheath that she had crafted specially for it, one that covered its bright glow; she had been detected more than a few times while trying to sneak around due to that. She held it out to Vilkas pommel first, and he hesitated then took it.

"It's lighter than I expected," he stated. "But beautiful, by Ysmir. Amazing." It was a gorgeous weapon, with what looked to be a miniature sun burning inside the cross piece, though it gave off no heat. He couldn't tell what kind of metal it was made from, either. He was so used to heavy two-handed swords that it felt like a dagger in his hand. He wasn't particularly comfortable with the fact that it was a Daedric artifact, but at least it was from a benevolent Daedra, if there was such a thing.

"It cuts through draugr and vampires like a hot knife through butter. Frostbite spiders and ice wraiths too."

"I can imagine."

"I've been able to temper it with ebony, but I'm going to have to train more with Eorlund before I can do anything further to it." Vilkas handed it back and she put it away. When she looked up he was staring at her with a hungry look, and she blushed. "What?"

"There's something rather sexy about a woman sliding a sword into its sheath like that." He licked his lips and softly added, "I can think of something else I would love to sheath."

"Stop it!" she whispered, feeling her insides twist with need.

"Is Lydia home?" he asked, moving close to her.

"Yes, with Farkas! I told her I'd stay out for a while."

"Well, that's rather inconvenient."

"Besides, you're filthy."

He nuzzled by her ear and murmured, "No sense washing first if I'm going to get filthy all over again." She giggled, and the sound combined with the smell of lavender in her hair drove him to distraction. He sighed in frustration and put his arm around her shoulders, leading her up the road. "So, tell me about the Embassy. I remember you saying Delphine wanted you to sneak inside?"

"Well, I didn't actually do that," she said in a tone of dread. "Delphine was able to get me an invitation. I'm still not sure how. I went to one of Elenwen's parties. It was horrible, she stared at me the whole time I was there, as if I looked familiar to her. Maybe she remembered me from Helgen, I don't know. Jarl Idgrod was there, which was good, but so was Maven. I wasn't there long though, maybe twenty minutes at the most. I was able to sneak away during a distraction. I had to, well, I had to fight my way through the Embassy. I had to kill ten of them."

"Ten Thalmor," he whispered. "You killed _ten_ of them?"

"Not all at once. Well five at once." She shuddered. "Evil. The things I saw and heard there…they were torturing a man, down in the basement. I was able to get him out, and the Bosmer who helped me, Malborn. I found the documents I came for, and the Thalmor don't know why the dragons are returning either, but…I found a file on Ulfric Stormcloak."

Disquieted by all this, Vilkas said, "Maybe we should wait until we get up to Jorrvaskr before saying anything more about that." There were too many folk around, folk who took a great deal of interest in their relationship, though that interest seemed to be benign. Still, Whiterun was the center of Skyrim, and even with the war going on it got its fair share of travelers, and one never knew the real reason any of them were here. If Bryn had fought her way through the Thalmor Embassy and killed that many of their number, they weren't going to take that lying down. As they went up the stairs to the Wind District he asked, "So, how long ago was this?"

"A week? I picked up Lydia in Solitude and came right back here, after stopping in Riverwood. I was hoping to have you go with me so she could stay here, but you had just left that morning." He nodded, looking regretful. "Farkas went with us, to Riften. I had to get an old man out of the sewers there, a former Blade that the Thalmor were after. The Ratway was crawling with them. We got him out and back to Delphine in Riverwood, and I told them they would have to go on without me for a while. I'm sick of doing her bidding. 'Serve and protect the Dragonborn' my ass."

Vilkas' eyebrows rose at the unusually curt words. He ended up saying, "I'm glad my brother was able to go with you."

"So am I." She looked up at the dry, dead tree and murmured, "I'm going to have to do something about that soon."

"The tree?"

"I found the knife Danica wanted, but she won't touch it. There's a sanctuary in Eastmarch she wants me to go to, to get some sap from the mother tree. She thinks it will heal the Gildergreen."

"Please tell me you aren't heading out again right away!" he protested.

"No no. Maybe next week. I was going to head to Eastmarch next anyway. I want to try to become thane in all the holds—"

"What the hell for!"

"So that all the jarls will listen to me." He paused on the steps up to Jorrvaskr and turned to look at her, his expression tense. She held up her hands and pleaded, "Please honey, just hear me out." He nodded slowly, his pale eyes gleaming against the smudged war paint. "This civil war is going to bleed us dry. The Thalmor are counting on it. In the embassy I found a dossier on the old man I rescued, Esbern. In it the Thalmor refer to the Great War as 'the First War with the Empire'. First war, Vilkas! As if they're planning a second one! They'll wait for Skryim to fall apart then swoop in while we and the Empire are weak and finish us all off. I can't let that happen. This thing with Alduin is important, yes, the most important thing of all, but once I get that out of the way the Thalmor will still need to be dealt with."

"By you."

_Who else?_ she nearly retorted, but the grief in his voice and eyes stopped her. She reached up and combed his dirty hair back from his face and softly urged him, "Come with me, the next time I go out-"

"I said I would."

Bryn shook her head and said, "I know, but what I was going to say was, come with me and see what I can do now. Fight a dragon or two with me. See how people light up when I do good things for them. You haven't seen me in action since those first days we were together, when I was still so new to all this. I can do so much more now, I'm so much stronger and faster and more confident. If you see all that, maybe you'll believe in me."

Hurt and offended, he said, "How can you say that? You think I don't believe in you?"

She sighed, "Maybe that didn't come out right."

"Damn straight it didn't!"

"All I meant was that if you saw what I can do, you would realize that I really am the only one who can put a stop to all this. Alduin, the war, the Thalmor, all of it." Vilkas didn't answer, his jaw clenched as he looked out over her head. She let her hand fall away, trying to be patient with him, wondering what in Oblivion he wanted from her, what he wanted her to do. She nearly asked him, and knew that would be a bad idea, especially now that he was upset. It never took much. She loved that about him, how passionate he was, but it could also be exhausting.

When Bryn said nothing more he looked down at her, and when he saw her worry he muttered, "I do tend to overreact, don't I."

"Only because you care, and I love you for it."

He made a sound of pain and put his arm around her neck, pulling her close for a kiss on the forehead. "Ah love, I don't deserve you."

"Don't be silly, of course you do." She wondered if that was part of his worry, that if she kept growing and changing that eventually she would outgrow him. She didn't bring it up, knowing it would be a patronizing thing to say. It was also completely impossible. She took his hand and tugged on it, saying, "Come on, I'll help you out of your armor, then I'll wash you head to toe."

"You might get wet if you do that," he warned with a smile.

"Well then, I probably should get naked too."

Vilkas laughed and lifted her hand to kiss it, enjoying the feel of her fingers intertwined with his. He had sworn early on that he would never have relations with Bryn under Jorrvaskr's roof, but that clearly wasn't feasible. They had been apart so long that he wasn't about to wait for some perfect opportunity that might never come. It would also help quiet the beast that had been pressing against the underside of his skin so insistently. He hoped Kodlak found the cure soon, and indeed the Harbinger seemed hopeful, having stumbled upon the records of a past Harbinger named Terrfyg, where it seemed the curse had started. Everything would be easier to deal with once the beastblood no longer tormented him. Also, once Farkas was cured he would no longer have anything to hide from Lydia and they could marry, once Bryn no longer needed her at her back. He supposed his trip with her to Eastmarch in a few days would tell if she did.

* * *

Vilkas shuddered with excitement mixed with a wondrous terror as the dragon's scream reverberated off the rock beneath him. He and Bryn were creeping around the outcropping that hid Eldergleam Sanctuary, where they had just left the pilgrim Maurice Jondrelle to watch over the little sapling the sacred tree had gifted him with. Bryn had been relieved to not have to use violence on the tree, and there was no telling how it would have reacted. They had noticed a dragon flying nearby as they'd approached the cave, and Bryn had grinned and said this was his chance to fight the one thing in Skyrim he hadn't killed yet. Bryn hardly seemed fazed at all by the prospect of fighting the thing.

As they came over the top of the rocks he saw the beast flying around another outcropping across the volcanic tundra, one with ruins atop it, and when he looked at Bryn he saw her staring at the dragon with the intensity of a sabre cat stalking a deer. He whispered to her, "How many has it been now?"

"Hm, eleven, twelve? I'm not really sure anymore."

"So what's the plan?"

"Well, it's flying around, so it's going to see us. No sneaking up on this one. Better that we face it head on. Bows first, until it's grounded. Watch out for its breath. This one is whitish, so expect frost. Better than fire, for us anyway." Vilkas nodded, and they continued creeping around the outcropping. When they were directly across from it she pulled out her bow, as did Vilkas, and she pointed at the hollowed-out circle to their left. "That's where it came from. Gods know when Alduin raised it, but it looks fresh."

The dragon screamed again and Vilkas shivered, whispering with a grin, "I won't lie love, I'm fucking terrified right now!" Bryn laughed and when he looked at her, her eyes were gleaming gold in the sunlight.

"Isn't it marvelous?" she replied happily, then she leapt up and started running down the hill.

"Yes it is!" he cried as he followed. The dragon instantly noticed them and shrieked, wheeling about to pass over them as if sizing them up, the air thundering around them with the pass of the monstrous wings. As he readied an arrow he yelled in delight, "Look at the size of that son of a bitch!" He was an excellent archer but knew he didn't have quite the skill Aela or Bryn did. He wanted the beast on the ground where he could go head to head with it.

He landed his first hit as it began to hover, and it roared in fury and shouted a cone of ice at him. He bore it stoically, hearing the crystals tinkle against his helmet and feeling them prick at the exposed skin of his face. He heard a deafening _"FUS RO DAH!"_ next to him along with the crack of thunder, and the dragon cried out and wheeled away.

"Ah,_ DOVAHKIIN! Zoor los vahzah! _So the legend is true!"

"By Akatosh, they can talk," Vilkas whispered. The voice sounded like the voice of a mountain, making his ears shudder inside with the force of it.

"Yes, though they rarely do," she replied, her eyes never leaving the dragon as it rose up into the air then arced back down again. She nocked an arrow and followed her target, landing a strike in its neck as it dove down, making it dip in flight and shriek in pain.

It took half a dozen more shots to bring the creature down, and when it skidded across the earth Bryn slung her bow onto her back and drew out Dawnbreaker along with a shield that was emblazoned with the wolf of Solitude. She hung back as Vilkas charged in, giving him first chance at the dragon, the wild grin on his face all the thanks she needed. She wished she had given him more pointers on where to hit it, the weaknesses to look for that she had picked up by instinct, an instinct that he just didn't have. That no one but her had.

Vilkas was doing incredibly well for himself, better than any other warrior she knew could have possibly done, and he nearly had the beast finished when it spun around, lashing out with its tail, knocking him off his feet. When her beloved cried out, on his side clutching his thigh, Bryn ran in and slashed at the dragon's hindquarter, making it snarl and turn on her. She cut across its snout and dodged the snap of its jaws, and when it eyed Vilkas with cunning then opened its mouth to grab him up she shouted _"YOL!"_ at its side, distracting it, then dared something she never would have dreamed of doing before. She ducked under its wing and jumped onto the creature's neck, making it thrash, and she sat down hard and locked her legs around its neck then plunged Dawnbreaker into the top of its skull, killing it instantly.

Vilkas stared in reverent awe as he watched her deliver the killing blow, and the dragon shuddered into stillness without a sound. Bryn stood on the dragon's head then pulled out the sword and threw her arms wide, screaming at the sky, _"ZU'U LOS DOVAHKIIN!"_ His eyes wide, he shivered as the sound thundered around him, the pain of his broken leg forgotten as the carcass began to glow in orange fire, and when a whispering, rushing essence rose and wrapped around her she let her hands fall to her sides, her eyes burning gold. She squeezed her eyes shut and slid the sword into its sheath, and when the skull began to roll she nimbly stepped off and walked away from the remains, the glow around her quickly fading.

When she saw that Vilkas truly was hurt, Bryn ran to him, falling to her knees beside him. "Your leg!" she said with worry, seeing him clutching it. He stared at her with huge eyes, his mouth moving as if he wanted to say something and nothing could come out. Well, Lydia had the first time too, and this was the first time Bryn had felt such a primal urge afterward. She had no idea where it had come from.

Vilkas finally stammered, "I ah, I think it's broken. I…" Bryn gazed at him with shiny eyes then looked away as if embarrassed, and he let go of his leg to grab her by the back of the neck, whispering fiercely, "You damn magnificent woman!" Her eyes went back to him, tears welling up in them, and he gave her a shake and demanded, "Never, _never_ be embarrassed by what you are. You are the most perfect, most beautiful thing I have ever seen, now more than ever. Believe that."

"As long as you think so, I will."

"Good, because I'll always think so." He pulled off his helmet then shifted to sit, gritting his teeth against the agony shooting through his thigh, careful not to aggravate the break. He stripped off the dented steel plate, the only thing that had kept it from becoming a compound fracture. He cursed softly as he felt along the bone, hearing a whimpering sound of worry from Bryn. He told her, "I think it's a clean break, love. Work your healing and I should be no worse for the wear in a few minutes."

"Are you sure? If it isn't…" Danica would have to re-break it, set it, then heal it again.

"Aye, I'm sure. It doesn't hurt as bad as it could. I've broken bones before, badly. This isn't so bad."

"All right." Bryn slid her hand down inside his pant leg, barely touching his skin, and began healing, seeing Vilkas instantly relax as the pain retreated. She still didn't have the magical capacity she would have liked, and drank down a blue magicka potion then set to healing again, just to make certain. She withdrew and he held his hand out to her, and she helped him to his feet where he took a few tentative steps then grinned at her.

"That's my girl. It's as good as new."

"Still, you should be careful of it. Maybe let me do a little more healing later."

"Eh, I'll be fine." He shoved the dented plate into his pack then nodded with his head towards the skeleton and Bryn accompanied him to it. It had deteriorated to nothing but the framework, and even that was starting to crumble, with only the skull and a few bones and scales holding together, along with a puddle of gold septims and a few tattered pieces of horse tack in the middle where the gut must have been. Vilkas squatted down and grabbed the skull by the horns to set it upright, breathing, "What a splendid creature. This was…an honor. Truly."

Bryn knelt by him and quietly said, "I actually feel bad sometimes, killing them. Something so big and ancient and beautiful. Then I look at the remnants of their last dinner and remember how evil they are. This is the first one I've killed that didn't have human or mer remains in it. They do seem to prefer eating people for some reason, I think for the perverse pleasure of toying with their dinner first."

"Ugh." They rose to their feet and Bryn kicked aside the crumbling bones to scoop up the rather impressive amount of gold left over, then she gathered the sturdy bones and scales that remained. Vilkas hefted the skull, surprised to find that it weighed no more than ten pounds. He laughed to Bryn, "Hey, I think I'm going to take this back to Jorrvaskr. I guarantee none of the others have a trophy like this!"

She laughed in return and wrinkled her nose, saying, "And I guarantee you'll get tired of carrying it very quickly."

"I don't care. I'm hanging this on my wall. I bet mine is bigger than Jarl Balgruuf's." Bryn burst into fresh laughter, and he added, "Don't tell him I said that."

"Oh, I won't. Irileth would have your head for it."

"Still, I am serious. I want to take this back with me. Kodlak would love to see it, and who knows if I'll ever get the chance to fight another?"

Bryn said tiredly, "Stick with me for any length of time and you will. I've never seen a town that's been razed by a dragon, but if it does try it's just when I'm showing up. It's the oddest thing. I've been meaning to talk to the Greybeards about that, if the dragons can sense me somehow. The first dragon I killed, the one outside Whiterun, knew what I was, before I knew how to Shout."

"That is quite odd," he agreed. He left the skull where it was for now and pointed to the hill the dragon had been circling. Ancient stone columns rose from the crest. "What do you want to bet there's a word wall up there?" Bryn brightened and he took her hand and they hurried across the steaming, sulfurous landscape. Vilkas felt so perfectly happy, finding traveling with Bryn so far to be a pleasure, though it would be much more of one now that they had ditched the pilgrim. He knew Bryn wanted to explore more of Eastmarch, but they had the little sapling to return to Danica. Once that was done they would be free to do some adventuring together. It was the only way with her responsibility to grow her Voice and her reputation that they could spend time together. It was hard to find it burdensome when the rewards were as rich as this. The other Companions would be green with envy, Aela and Farkas especially.

When they reached the summit Bryn clapped her hands in delight like a little girl, something Vilkas found terribly charming, then she ran to the wall and pressed her hands to it. The word hissed softly and wound around her, glowing light blue, and he heard her whisper _"Krah!"_ as she pulled her hands away. He petted her hair back as her eyes opened, and he quietly asked, "Do you know what _krah_ means?"

"I think it's the second word in Frost Breath. It feels like it. I have extra dragon souls floating about with no word to attach to, so this one settled right away." She stepped away from him, holding her hand out to warn him to stay away, then she turned away and shouted at the ground, _"FO KRAH!"_

Vilkas made a choked sound of shock as he felt residual cold swirl around them, and when the blast faded he carefully went over to inspect the lingering circles of ice crystals. He flicked one with his finger and it shattered. He stood, seeing that in the moist warmth from the nearby steam vents that the frost was already melting. "Astounding," he stated. He gazed at her for a moment before asking, "What does it feel like? Shouting?"

Her eyebrows rose; it was the first time anyone had asked her that. She considered for a few seconds then said, "I can't really explain it. When I'm getting ready to Shout, thinking about the words, it's almost like a pressure, something bubbling or boiling inside me that I have to let out. Or push out."

"The fire and frost breath…can you feel it? The heat or cold?"

"Oh, no. No, it doesn't seem to take form until it leaves my mouth. Thank goodness."

"The…beast, it is somewhat like that, the feeling of something pressing from the inside, needing to get out, except it's always there. Some days worse than others, but always there." She made a sound of sympathy and moved close to him, kissing his cheek. He put one arm around her and murmured, "I wish I had my brother's calm. The Blood doesn't seem to bother him. He says he simply ignores it, doesn't think about it. I can't do that. I can never stop…thinking."

"Well, you do have the brains of Ysgramor," she teased.

He snorted, appreciating that she was trying to lighten things. "Ysgramor would have had the brains to not take the Blood." And convince his brother to do the same. That was something Vilkas still had trouble living with, that he had cursed his twin along with himself. How Farkas didn't cast any blame on Vilkas for it was beyond him.

"Like Vignar."

Vilkas stood back a step to hold her at arms' length, shocked. "He told you?"

"Well, Farkas mentioned it to me a long time ago, that you two thought he had rejected it, but yes, he told me a couple months ago, when I found the Beacon and had to leave. While I was waiting for you to come in from the yard. He said they had offered him a place in the Circle not long after he came back from the war."

"That damn, wily old man! I pestered him endlessly about it as a boy, asking him why he wasn't part of the Circle, and got a few cuffs for my trouble when I was too persistent. And he just comes out and tells you?"

"Well, I am the Dragonborn." Vilkas laughed at that, though not as loudly as she'd hoped he would. "He's worried that I'll be invited to join the Circle one of these days. He wanted to warn me, since he knew that I was already aware of your natures."

"Huh. Well, I won't lie, Kodlak has mentioned it, but he's made it clear to me and the others that he would not tolerate you being changed. There is no reason for it when he's trying so hard to find a cure and end this vicious cycle."

"I keep meaning to talk to him about it when I get back, but I haven't had the chance yet. He's been so tired lately that I hate to bother him."

"It's Arcadia's potion. It eases the pain in his gut, but at the cost of his wits. The days that he searches the archives he goes without, to keep his mind sharp, but the pain is getting worse. He's been able to eat more lately, which I'm glad for, but we worry he has less than a year to live. He won't let Danica see him any more to find out. He says it's pointless and his time will come when it's due."

The grief in her beloved's voice was hard to bear, and she put her arms around his neck to kiss him tenderly. While Farkas still clung to Jergen's memory, he did love Kodlak dearly, but not the way Vilkas did. She knew Vilkas was the one out of the Circle who spent the most time with the old man, who helped care for him most, who loved him best. Bryn wasn't entirely sure how Vilkas would react when Kodlak passed away; he wasn't exactly reasonable when he was upset, and she couldn't imagine a greater upset than that.

She finally said to him, "When we get back I'll find time to sit and talk to him, see if I can help him in any way."

"He hasn't even let me help him look. The archives he's looking in are for the Harbinger's eyes alone."

"Oh. Well, we'll just have to wait and hope for the best then."

"Yes, but…gods, I can't live the rest of my life like this!" he said intently, his voice breaking.

She stroked his rough cheek and sighed, "Dearest, if you have to, you won't do it alone. I love you no matter what you are."

"Yes, I know, but this is for me! I don't want to live like this. Even if I gave in and changed, it no longer brings the pleasure it used to. I feel filthy afterwards, as if I have a taint on my soul. I want to go to Sovngarde. I want to sit among the heroes and tell my tales. I want to meet Ysgramor, tell him that I fought a dragon and loved the Dragonborn. I want to be a hero, not a beast!" Bryn gazed at him sadly, silent. He was glad she didn't give him any more platitudes. He made a sound of frustration and said to her, "There's no way for you to understand, and I wouldn't want you to. Farkas bumbles along in life as if nothing troubles him, and Aela and Skjor spend so much time as beasts that I sometimes worry they'll lose their humanity. None of them understand how it torments me, not even Kodlak. He hasn't changed in a year and a half! How does he do it?"

"No doubt the sickness is the greater distraction," she said quietly. Maybe he was finally ready to tell her more about it.

"Aye, no doubt, but it leaves me with no one of the Blood who understands. If it isn't the need to change, it's the smells, the sounds. Everything is too sharp, too intense, always."

"So your sense of smell and hearing are greater then? You've never said."

"Yes," he said in a miserable tone. "Not as much as when I'm changed, but still stronger than a normal man's. There are times when it's good, like when we're making love, when I feel like your scent and heartbeat are wrapped all around me, and at times like that I don't know how I could ever give up the Blood, then you leave and it all starts again, the endless…_need_." He finally looked Bryn in the eyes, and as he knew he would he saw nothing but sympathy and love there. "Being with you, making love, it quiets the beast afterward, and I'm content. Not a day after you leave and it rears its ugly head again. The anger, the hunger. I don't want to live like this. I don't want to die like this, knowing I'm cursed to an endless animal existence in the Hunting Grounds. I want Sovngarde. I want…I want you and me to be together there."

Bryn bit her lip and stared sadly at him, glad he had finally gotten this out. She hesitated then asked, "But how can you be sure that's where I will end up, dearest? Where do mongrels like me go after they die?" Vilkas' eyes widened as his expression turned to one of near horror. "I look like a Nord, for the most part, but does that make me a Nord in Shor's eyes?"

"Being Dragonborn does," he stated firmly. "You're Nord, as your mother was. Human children are a blend of their parents, but children of two races take most strongly after their mother, because it is her womb that they form in. You of all people are guaranteed a place in Shor's Hall, never doubt it. Being Dragonborn, having the power of the _thu'um_, it is a Nord thing. Your father's blood should never be a shameful thing to you, but it is your mother's blood that has made you Dragonborn and a Nord." Bryn looked relieved, as if the matter had been worrying her. He kissed her, glad they had both gotten their concerns aired. When he broke away he said, "Come, let's get that spindly little twig back to Whiterun and hope Danica doesn't throw a fit over it. Then we can think about where we'll go next, and see if we can't get you thaned all over Skyrim."

Bryn laughed merrily. "Thaned? Is that a word?"

"It is now."


	17. Chapter 17

"Ah, there you are."

Bryn looked up from the glass greave that Eorlund had set her to practicing on, with the stern warning that if she screwed it up she was going to have to pay for the entire set of armor, the only one he had. He had gone home for lunch a few minutes ago, glancing back several times as if he were reluctant to leave her alone with his precious Skyforge, and even then she'd had to prove her skill to him by spending the morning tempering an enchanted steel plate cuirass she had found a few days prior in a chest atop Bonestrewn Crest, with Vilkas. She had been a nervous wreck, working under his critical gaze, hearing him grunt a few times, and in the end he had nodded curtly and said, "Passable." She had taken it for the compliment it was, and he had then set to teaching her about glass armor and the properties of malachite and moonstore ores. It had been immediately obvious that his knowledge far outstripped Balimund's, though Balimund was a much more pleasant teacher.

Aela put her hand on her hip and continued, "You've been a hard one to pin down lately."

Not sure how to respond, Bryn smiled and said, "I'm here now. For a few days, anyway."

"I don't mean anything by it. What you do is far more important than chasing down family heirlooms and driving bears out of people's houses."

"Still, that is plenty important."

"Of course."

When Aela didn't go on, seeming conflicted about something, Bryn asked, "Is everything all right, Shield-Sister?"

Aela relaxed and gave her a brief smile. "Sister. That's good to hear."

"I still consider myself a Companion. I make sure when doing good works that I let the folk know that, everywhere I go."

"Yes, and it's appreciated. Business is on an uptick, thanks to your reputation I'm sure." She shook her head, her auburn hair swirling around her lovely painted face. "I hope I didn't imply that we have any worries in that regard. If anything we worry that you'll leave us behind."

Frowning, Bryn asked, "How could I? I love it here. Whiterun and Jorrvaskr. This is home."

"And Vilkas is here."

"Yes..."

"Again, not implying anything. Only stating a fact." Bryn nodded. "If your relationship is a comfort to him, who are any of us to say it's wrong? It isn't as if it's forbidden anyway. Personally, I think Vilkas makes things harder on himself than they need to be, but that's my own opinion."

"Which you are certainly entitled to. If it helps, I did tell him that if things are growing hard to bear to just do it, that I would love him either way. But it isn't what he wants. He isn't as old as Kodlak, but he isn't terribly young either, and I'd rather he didn't spend the second half of his life agonizing over it."

"Ah," Aela said in relief. "I'm glad you understand."

"As best I can, being what I am. But what you all are doesn't frighten me, I assure you of that."

"And how could it, Dragon Sister?" Bryn laughed at that, her cheeks pink. "I won't keep you from your work. Wouldn't want the old forgemaster to start barking at you when he gets back. When you get the chance though, Skjor wants to talk to you. He's been meaning to for some time now and hasn't found the right opportunity. I hope it will be today."

"I'll see him right after I finish this."

"Good. I'll see you later."

_And so it begins_, Bryn thought with a touch of dread, watching Aela walk away. She didn't know how the older woman tolerated wearing next to nothing in this climate, Nord or not, though Bryn supposed it made it easy to take off and put on during shapeshifting. It was fairly obvious what the two werewolves wanted: to make Bryn part of the Circle, on their terms. The timing was interesting, considering she had spent the last few days thinking about it, after her talk with Vilkas. She had been dead set against taking on the Blood before that day, and then their talk had changed everything. If Vilkas felt there was no way she could understand what he was going through, then she would make the choice to understand it, in the only way she really could. If Vilkas wanted to spend an eternity in the afterlife with her, then she would make sure that they both ended up in the same place. And lastly, taking on the beastblood would show Kodlak that she was invested in finding a cure. She sure as hell didn't want to be a werewolf, let alone remain one.

* * *

"To join the Circle, your blood must be as ours." Bryn made a sound of quiet interest then looked at Aela again. Skjor went on, "This is your choice, of course."

"Yes, I realize that," she stated calmly. "But understand that I'm not doing this for the reasons you stated. Next to the power I have, this is…hm." There really wasn't any way to put it without being insulting, and from the narrowing of Skjor's eyes and Aela growl they were still offended.

"Really," Skjor drawled. "While I'm sure that's true, still, you're here."

"I'm here for Vilkas' sake."

"Aww, isn't that sweet."

"I want to understand what he's going through, and I want Kodlak to understand my…level of investment."

"Those reasons are as good as any, Sister."

"Has it occurred to you two that the wolf blood may not mix so well with dragon blood?"

"Yes, it has, and that's the risk we're prepared to take, if you are. We'll both be watching over you this first time."

"As you said, I'm here. Let's do this." It was now or never, and Vilkas would wonder where she was before long. She hoped this little ceremony went quickly.

"Good," Skjor said with pleasure. "Are you ready to join your spirit with the beast world, Sister?"

"I am, Brother." _For now_, she silently added.

"Excellent." He went around to stand near Aela, drawing a dagger. "Remove your clothes. The change isn't kind to them." Bryn hesitated, and he smirked and added, "I have eyes only for Aela, whelp. Don't flatter yourself." Aela snarled in annoyance at him, and he stroked her muzzle, calming her, and she turned her nose into his palm with a huffing sound.

Bryn's eyebrows rose but she did as she was told. So Skjor and Aela really were lovers. The admission was shocking yet anticlimactic at the same time. Vilkas had told him that Aela was a lover of women, that she never touched men. Maybe the constant companionship of the last half a year had changed something. Bryn couldn't help wondering if this would change things between her and Vilkas, other than him completely losing it when he found out what she had done. He was going to go crazy, and she was prepared for that. It would still be upsetting, but she was prepared.

* * *

Still dizzy, Bryn started strapping back on her armor. "You could have warned me," she seethed. "Vilkas is going to tear the place apart looking for me!"

"Skjor left him a note, with Farkas," Aela stated, trying to keep her voice steady. In the dark Bryn's eyes were flashing gold fire, her entire body nearly vibrating with fury. Skjor and Aela both hadn't been able to control Bryn after she changed, even with Skjor shifting as well to try to keep her inside the Underforge, which she had quickly escaped. She had gotten loose and it had taken everything they had to herd her towards the city walls, which she had promptly gone over, then towards their destination. She had refused to feed on the bandit they found for her and had resumed human form all too quickly, going into a seizure then falling unconscious. The two had feared she would die, as occasionally happened during the first transformation, though they had never seen it happen themselves.

"A note!" she shouted, making Aela recoil then hold up her hands for quiet, her eyes fearful. They weren't far from Gallows Rock, and the Silver Hand within. She hissed, "I should kill you two for this!"

"But you agreed to it!" Aela protested.

"I never agreed to come out there! Neither of you told me you planned on using me to carry out your own personal vendetta."

"The vendetta is _all_ of ours. Do you think they would let your precious twins live, if they ever got to them? They won't care that Vilkas and Farkas want to be cured, or that they try not to shift. They'll butcher and skin them all the same. You can't imagine what these devils do to our kind!"

"I'm about to find out, aren't I," she retorted, strapping Dawnbreaker around her waist. "I'm telling you right now…you two stay away from me when we get back. I'm beyond furious, and it isn't any little fucking pissant werewolf talking, do you hear me? I feel the wolf in there, cowering before the dragon, and the dragon is angry, Aela. Very, very angry."

"Understood," the huntress whispered, suddenly regretting this. She and Skjor honestly had debated between the two of them what would happen if the Dragonborn took on beastblood, and this had been one of the scenarios they had envisioned: the dragon staying dominant over the wolf. They hadn't envisioned Bryn being angry though, but then she was angry over getting dragged out here without warning. That had been a serious oversight on their part.

"I will _never_ change again," Bryn vowed. "I refuse to act like a lowly animal, or feed on human beings!"

Aela protested in confusion, "But then why did you—"

"_Never!"_ she shouted.

"All right!" Aela shuddered in fear as thunder cracked around them. She hoped the Silver Hand thought it was only the weather, which was threatening to turn.

"Let's go before it gets any later, and where the hell are we going anyway?"

"A fort nearby."

"Fine. I'm about angry enough to Shout the whole damn place down."

Bryn's anger cooled significantly by time they made their way inside and reached the rows of prison cells on the fort's first level. She honestly couldn't see the difference between the Silver Hand and common bandits, except the Silver Hand's depravity was so much worse. Several of the werewolf corpses showed clear signs of torture, and it was beyond Bryn what the point of it all was.

"There's nothing that can be done for these poor bastards," Aela said, her voice shaking. "I can't even imagine what horrors those cretins perpetrated on them before they died."

"Oh no," Bryn breathed when she reached the end. The werewolf within was still alive, and it snarled and threw itself against the bars.

Aela cautioned, "Don't let him out. If he's still in this form then he's too far gone to save."

She had no idea how Aela could tell it was male, as Bryn saw no obvious signs. Scent maybe, but Bryn's sense of smell didn't feel much different than before. "Why?"

"He's been forced to transform so often that he's…stuck in that state. Feral." She shook her head. "Even Skjor and I never do it more often than once every three or four days. You start to lose your sense of self, if done too often, and eventually the wolf is all that is left."

Bryn bit her tongue against an acidic comment about what a wondrous 'gift' this was, and asked instead, "So what do we do?"

"Put him out of his misery." To her credit the girl didn't protest, and Aela moved to face the beast, her bow drawn. "I'm sorry brother," she whispered. "I'll see you again in our master's hunting grounds." The werewolf snarled at her then suddenly went silent, letting its hands fall to its sides; he had enough presence left to know what she intended, and prefer it to living like this. It closed its eyes and Aela let the arrow fly surely through the bars, hitting the beast squarely between the eyes. She heard a choked sob from Bryn, and it was hard not to give in to tears herself. "Now you know why we do this."

"I would have helped without becoming one of you, if you'd told me."

"This is pack business. You were not pack. Now you are."

"Only until Kodlak finds a cure." Aela growled in frustration, and she told her in an intense voice, "I don't _need_ this, Aela. I didn't _want_ this. I did this only to understand what Vilkas was going through, to share in his pain, and now I'm afraid it's all for nothing, because I can't, because I'm not like him. The dragon isn't going to let the wolf out of its corner."

"It could if you let it."

"I can't, because I _am_ the dragon. My soul won't allow the lycanthropy to completely take root. I can feel it."

Aela didn't argue any further, hopeless, knowing it was true. Bryn wasn't showing any of the behavioral signs a newborn werewolf showed, and though her scent had changed it wasn't as much as it should have. She said in a sullen voice, "I wanted a sister in the Blood. A woman to share in the hunt with me."

"I can't. I'm sorry. I'll hunt game with you any time you want, even when you're changed, without batting an eye, but I'm sure it wouldn't be the same for you." Bryn couldn't imagine what the difference was, but it would be there all the same.

"No, it wouldn't."

"I'm sorry," she repeated. She hesitated then went on, "I've always hoped we could be closer than we have been, and now…"

"It isn't easy for me. I spent most of my life alone, in the woods with my father, hunting everything there was to hunt. Good practice, but not for being around people," she admitted with difficulty, unable to meet Bryn's eyes. "I barely knew my mother, and when I came to Jorrvaskr to take her place it was too late. I've never really been comfortable with the others, except Skjor, and for so long it was only because he reminded me of my father. He's simple. Undemanding." Bryn made a sound of acknowledgment, fiddling with the string of her bow. "Father…he and Mother both…they were both werewolves. This life is all I've ever known. The hunt is all I know, all I care about."

"There's nothing wrong with that." She waited, and Aela didn't come out and admit what Bryn hoped: that she and Skjor really were lovers. She finally said, "I don't judge what you are."

"If that were true, you would have partaken in the meat when it was offered."

"I won't touch human flesh. If you'd offered anything but that, I would have taken it. It disgusts me, yes, but you and your nature do not. I saw Farkas change in front of me. I watched Vilkas change too and wasn't frightened. I told him to change when he needed to, if it made things easier. But it isn't for me. I don't need any more complications."

"All right. I just…as long as there's peace between us."

"Oh Aela," Bryn sighed, reaching out to grab the other woman's shoulder. "You _are_ my sister, in the Blood or not it doesn't matter. We haven't spent as much time together as we should have, but we're here now. Let's hunt and put everything else aside for now. I'm worried about Skjor. Shouldn't we have seen him by now?"

Aela's brow furrowed as she answered, "Yes, we should have. He knows better than to go in alone, without a shield-sibling. He'll have a lot to answer for once we find him."

Bryn decided to forge ahead and asked, "So you two…you're together then?"

She snorted a laugh. "I suppose you could call it that. There have been times, recently, that we've… come together."

"But I thought—"

"Yes, I prefer other women. Things, well, they have a way of changing." She rubbed her nose and added with some difficulty, "I'm the last of my line. I've told you this before, but all the women of my family have been Companions, all the way back to Hrotti Black-Blade, of the first Five Hundred Companions of Ysgramor, one of the Jorrvaskr's crew. However liking women isn't conducive to continuing the bloodline."

"Ah. I see."

"Yes, I needed a daughter. That requires a father, a sire. Skjor offered. I accepted."

"It seems neat and tidy. But he also seems very fond of you."

"He's in love with me, you can say it," she stated with discomfort. "I think in some way he has been since I was a young girl. When I first came here I was as leggy and skittish as a colt, barely fifteen. When things were hard, he was always there, and never asked anything in return. I never asked anything of him either. I'm not a young girl anymore at thirty-four. A woman's fertility declines. His offer was a joking one, at first, or so I thought. When I realized he was serious, not quite six months ago, I figured, why not? It was…" She stared down the hall, and after a few seconds she quietly said, "It was so different from what I was used to. It was… pleasant. What started as a necessity became… Well, I didn't plan on this happening, and I still have no pregnancy to show for it."

Bryn nodded, leaving it at that, knowing better than to give some platitudes about giving it time, or bringing up Skjor's age, or asking if Aela loved Skjor back. Bryn wasn't a healer, and it wasn't her place to say anything. The situation was odd, but not much odder than the way she and Vilkas had come together. Vilkas. He was going to be furious when she got back. Better to get this over with and get back as soon as possible. He was going to be upset either way, but the last thing she wanted was for him to go out looking for her. She just hoped the note to Farkas had been somewhat diplomatic, carefully worded. No sense in making this entire mistake any worse.

* * *

The sound of footsteps coming toward the back entrance to the Underforge made Vilkas spring to his feet, and Farkas warned, "Careful, brother. Be nice to her."

"Nice? I'm going to kill them," Vilkas seethed. "Aela and Skjor for doing this to her, and Bryn for being an idiot!"

"She must've had a good reason for it."

"There are no good reasons!" When Bryn appeared in the tunnel he shouted at her, "What the hell were you thinking!" Bryn blinked and stared at him for a moment, then she slung a potato sack off her back and let it fall to the floor in front of the font, which was still sticky and damp with blood. The contents of the sack clanked and she stared at them with wet eyes, and when the tears fell on her cheeks he growled, "I can't believe you did this! Everything I've told you, and you do this!" When she put her hands over her face and began softly weeping it made him hesitate, and before he could say anything further he smelled it. Wolf scent. The smell on her made him furious all over again, until he realized she smelled like Skjor. "Where are the others?" he asked in a shaking voice. They were past the point in their relationship where his anger made her dissolve, so something had to be wrong.

"Gallows Rock," she choked.

"What…what's in the bag?"

"His armor. Aela told me…told me to take it home, since we…couldn't take him."

"Skjor," he whispered, going pale. He looked at his twin, whose face had turned to stone. "So…he's dead?" Bryn nodded, her face still in her hands. "How?"

"Silver Hand. He went ahead on his own. They…they butchered him. I didn't know it was him, but Aela knew. We couldn't bring back the body, it…they forced him to change. He died that way." She lifted her head and wiped her nose on her sleeve, staring at the font. "I didn't know this was going to happen, I swear it. I knew they were going to bring me into the Circle, but I had no idea they were going to take me out there to help them fight the Silver Hand. I was out of my mind I was so angry with them for it. When I changed they tried to get me to…to eat…ugh, I refused to do it, and I'll never change again. I did this for you and now it's all pointless."

"Me? How could you, when you know it's the last thing I would have wanted!" he cried. "I told you not three days ago how much I hated this!"

"And you told me I could never understand it, either."

He stared at her for a moment then asked in a snide tone, "I see. So, do you understand now?"

"No, and there's no way I can. My dragon blood won't allow it."

"Well then, aren't you the lucky one," he spat. "How nice for you that you get to join the Circle and take on the Blood and not have to eat human flesh and the beast will never get to you. Did you not think about all this, you little fool? Where the fuck were your brains!"

"Hey," Farkas growled. Bryn's eyes had shifted over to Vilkas, and she glared at him with mixed hurt and anger. Farkas went to her but before he could touch her shoulder she moved out of his reach, still staring at Vilkas, who stared back, still furious. He said to her, "Come on, little sister. You know how he gets when he's upset-"

"He lets himself," she quietly stated. "Like a child." Vilkas made a sound of offense and she told him, "This was my choice to make, not yours. I took everything you said into consideration and weighed it carefully. I knew you wouldn't appreciate it. I knew it would anger you. I did it anyway, because I wanted to know what you were going through, and because I wanted Kodlak to know that I was committed to the Companions and finding a cure. I did all this for rational reasons. What were your reasons at the time?"

"Stupid ones, and I told you that!" he replied. "Well congratulations, now you're tainted like me, and the Dragonborn herself is no longer fit to enter Sovngarde. I'm sure Hircine is laughing even now over the thought of making you his favorite hunting hound, his Dragonborn dog."

Bryn took a deep breath then turned to Farkas and said with regret, "I wish you and I could have loved each other the way we wanted. It would have made my life simpler." Vilkas made a choking sound behind her but she ignored it. Farkas shook his head at her, but she was too hurt by his twin's nastiness to care. She motioned toward the sack and asked, "I hate to ask you this, but could you take care of his things, and tell the others? I have something I promised Aela I would do."

"Not alone, I hope," he said in warning as he picked up the bag of armor. "Look what happened to Skjor." It was impossible to believe the older man was gone, and it made his heart ache. The former sellsword had been the most skilled of them all, and a good man. Jorrvaskr would never be the same.

"Yes, alone. I'm not getting Lydia involved in this."

"In what?"

"Aela told me about a fragment of Wuuthrad being held by the Silver Hand. I'm going to retrieve it, and dispose of them. Skjor was arrogant and went charging in and paid for it. I will not be doing that."

"This is a bad idea, little bird."

"Well, this is certainly the day for bad ideas, isn't it."

As she turned away without looking at him and headed for the exit onto the plains, Vilkas said, "Oh no you don't. Where do you think you're going?"

"Somewhere you aren't." She called over her shoulder to Farkas, "You should stay in the house with Lydia while I'm gone. I'm giving it to you two as a wedding present one of these days anyway, but don't tell her that."

His anger quickly evaporating in the face of Bryn's cool demeanor, Vilkas went after Bryn and said, "Wait, maybe I—" Before he could reach her she Shouted _"WULD NAH KEST!"_ and was gone. He resisted the urge to chase her, having that much sense at least. He would never catch her, and would look like an ass trying. Not that he didn't manage to look like an ass regardless.

"Good work," Farkas said in annoyance. Vilkas rubbed his hands over his face and he went on, "Don't you think one of us should go look after Aela? She's got to be pretty upset right now." Vilkas hesitated, and he added, "Never mind, I'll go. I don't want you barking at her over what happened." His brother had the sense not to protest. Farkas was rather aggravated with him for how he'd handled all this, though he was irritated with Bryn as well for deliberately hurting Vilkas' feelings. The cold way she had gone about it seemed worse somehow than Vilkas' temper.

"I screwed this up, didn't I," Vilkas muttered.

"Yeah, but so did she."

"We don't even know where she's going."

"Aela does." He hefted the sack of armor, and the clank of steel made a pang of grief go through him.

Seeing his brother's sadness, Vilkas murmured, "I can't believe he's gone. How could he have made such a stupid move, with his experience? Companions do not operate alone." Ridiculous as it seemed, Vilkas trusted Bryn's ability to clear out a fort more than any of the other Companions, with not only her _thu'um_ but most of all her stealth and skill with the bow. During the short time he'd traveled with her recently, she'd picked off most enemies before they even knew she was there, and her skill with the sword was respectable. The quickness with which she had grown in the time he'd known her was eerie, but she was Dragonborn, so it was a given; she seemed to absorb skills with the same ease that she absorbed dragon souls. Still, he was worried to death about her, and Aela. This entire situation had him deeply unsettled, beyond an old friend's death. He shook his head and went on, "I always thought him invincible. Truly…one of our great fires has gone out."

"He didn't get cocky," Farkas stated. "He's too old and seasoned for that. Honestly, I can't say why. Maybe Aela knows." He lifted the sack onto his shoulder and said, "I'm going to take this to his room then get ready and head out after Aela. I'll take Torvar with me, if he isn't useless drunk again."

"Yes, we're going to have to do something about him one of these days," Vilkas sighed. "I don't think Kodlak would tolerate the situation, if he had the energy to deal with it. I'll ah, I'll tell him and the others about Skjor. If we can't have a funeral, we need to at least have a memorial."

"Yeah. But…what are we going to do when Kodlak dies?"

"Believe me, I think about it every day. Before Skjor, I thought we would be okay. But with him gone, and Kodlak dying, and who knows what state Aela will be in…"

"And Bryn…"

"And Bryn," Vilkas sighed. She was a member of the Circle now, but it was in name only. She wasn't around to provide any guidance or training to the junior members. She couldn't be.

"None of the others are Circle material," Farkas said evenly. "They never will be."

"Yes, I know." The only real members of the Circle left would be the twins and Aela, once Kodlak passed. That wasn't a Circle at all. If the cure was found though, Vilkas was going to insist on Vignar being brought in. The old man should have been allowed to join the Circle thirty years ago. And once Kodlak was gone, whoever the new Harbinger was would need the elder's advice.

"Did Bryn mean what she said? About Breezehome?"

"She always means what she says," Vilkas muttered. Including her cruel jab about wishing she could have fallen in love with Farkas instead of Vilkas. That had hurt, deeply, as she had no doubt intended it to. He'd never imagined she had that kind of cruelty in her. He had lost his temper, as he often did, but her comments had seemed calculated.

"Did she talk to you about it?"

"No. This was the first I heard of it. I told her some time ago that you were thinking of asking Lydia to marry you some day in the future, but we didn't talk much about it. Marriage isn't a comfortable subject between us."

"Yeah, well you already know what I think about that. If it isn't comfortable it means you don't agree. So what aren't you agreeing on?" Vilkas stared at him in disbelief, and he said in annoyance, "You know, I'd really like it if you didn't act like it's a miracle when I say something halfway intelligent."

"I'm sorry."

"You should just ask her to marry you and see what happens."

He rolled his eyes and started for the exit to Jorrvaskr. "Oh, that would really work out well, wouldn't it, considering her parting shot at me was she's going somewhere I'm not."

"She's upset about Skjor and being changed, on top of being mad at you. A bad combination. Let her get done whatever it is she went to do, and when she gets back apologize to each other and go about your business. Go fight some more dragons together or something. You were both really happy when you came back from that trip."

"I can't," Vilkas said painfully. "Not now. With Skjor dead and Aela grieving and Kodlak sick…that leaves just you and me, brother, to hold everything together."

"Right," Farkas mumbled. "Hell." As they left the Underforge he put his arm around his twin's neck and said, "Don't worry too much, all right? We'll get through this."

"I have to worry. Skjor was the strongest of us, the most experienced of us. If the Silver Hand took him down, we'll have to be especially careful now when we leave Jorrvaskr. And how will we protect the younglings? That last trip I took to the Reach with Ria and Athis, she was glowing that she killed a bear. A goddamn bear, and it wasn't even one of those big cave bears. Athis is skilled but doesn't understand honor the way Ria does. Njada doesn't seem to truly care about any of us, or anything but bashing things with her shield. Torvar is becoming a full-time drunk, and when he is sober he's only adequate in a fight." He sighed heavily and went on, "Kodlak was right that we're…what did he call it, diminished. Vignar has said it too, that we aren't what we used to be. I'm not sure yet how to turn it all around."

"Me neither. Maybe Bryn has some ideas."

"I'm sure she does, but she's never around long enough to suggest them, let alone help implement them. How can she be? What she does is more important than babysitting this…rabble. Our purpose is to guide the others and set an example, but she isn't here to guide, and no one can hope to strive for the example she sets. I understand why Kodlak wanted her in the Circle, so that when she's out wandering Skyrim that we're associated with her, but other than that…"

They paused at the back doors and looked at each other, then they sighed as one and went inside to break the loss of Skjor to the others.


	18. Chapter 18

"Oh Maven," Bryn said with a chuckle. "Truly pathetic." She searched the khajiit assassin who had been sent this time to kill her, and who had failed even more spectacularly than the last; Bryn had been able to take this one out with nothing but the _thu'um_, as it seemed the cat folk were rather susceptible to frost. It had been over a month since the last killer had come after her (and Lydia) somewhere outside Morthal. The assassin had the standard vague note, a small amount of gold and a few lockpicks. The armor was nice though, enchanted, with a face mask. This one seemed to be a step up from the previous ones. Bryn decided to take the armor as well. One never knew when she might have to impersonate one of the Dark Brotherhood. She would have to modify the armor to fit her, but it would pass inspection in the dark. The hole for the tail would definitely have to be closed up.

After moving the body off into the brush she continued on her way, consulting her map as she went. Treva's Watch was very close, overlooking the Treva River that drained Lake Honrich into Lake Geir. It was still morning, overcast but dry. Perfect.

When she arrived at the fort she crouched behind the large outcropping of rock on the hill behind the fort and began dipping arrows into frostbite venom, determined to get this done quick, and right. She then crept up to peek around the rock, whispering _"LAAS!"_ to light up the Silver Hand in the area and get a count of those outside. Five. Manageable.

She was able to pick them off one at a time, moving constantly to avoid detection, and once the fort was quiet she went around the perimeter, just to make sure. She was surprised to find a small encampment nearby, where a fellow named Stalleo and two bodyguards were nursing their wounds from their last assault. Bryn readily agreed to help them, her goals aligning with theirs, and took the tunnel they pointed out that led inside.

In the end she took the lives of at least fifteen Silver Hand, suffering a number of injuries that she just as quickly healed, though they took longer due to the silver weapons. She couldn't get rid of this curse soon enough. Stalleo's family was nowhere inside, and to Bryn's surprise there were no werewolves kept captive here either. The fragment of Wuuthrad was at the top of the keep, and Bryn was delighted to find an enchanting desk along with the boss. She quickly dispatched him and disenchanted the dagger of sparks she had found earlier, an enchantment that she had been searching for since first becoming aware of it. Few if any creatures were resistant to shock damage, magic users especially vulnerable to it, and it would be a valuable addition to her Elven bow. And there just happened to be an enchanter's elixir on the table nearby to boost the enchantment.

Bryn left the keep happy, the fragment safe in her pack and a newly enchanted bow on her back. She informed Stalleo of her findings, to his mixed relief and worry, and he gave her a spell tome for her trouble. It held the enchantment for Detect Life; her Aura Whisper already filled that need quite nicely, so she would sell the book instead.

All in all it was a good day's work, and as she sat and ate a quick meal with Stalleo and his guards she pondered her next move. Traveling alone had been pleasant, if dull, but she should get back to Jorrvaskr to see how everyone was coping, especially Aela. The huntress had seemed numb upon finding Skjor's body, incapable of shedding a tear, but people reacted in odd ways to grief, and who knew how she was doing now. She also regretted how she had parted with Vilkas, and hoped it hadn't damaged their relationship, but he had gotten nasty first. His anger she could handle, but not being snide. It reminded her too much of his behavior when she had first joined the Companions, and she didn't like it.

In the end she decided to return to Whiterun, to avoid worrying anyone and to return the fragment, which seemed to be the main piece in the middle, a rather gruesome depiction of an Elf weeping and screaming in horror. A nice trophy, along with all the loot and coin she had collected. She just might have enough funds to finally purchase Proudspire Manor, that magnificent townhouse in Solitude, if she sold some dragon bones, though it would take some time to gather the coin to furnish it. The scales seemed more useful to her than the bones, so no loss, and there were bound to be plenty more dragons in her future.

* * *

The sound of the door squeaking open behind her made Aela growl, "I said I didn't want any company."

"It's me," Bryn softly said. "I just got back from Treva's Watch." It was heartbreaking, seeing Aela kneeling by Skjor's bed, his armor laid out neatly there as if he were still wearing it and he was lying there sleeping.

"Are they all dead?"

"Yes, every one of them."

"Good. While you were gone I received a message from one of our—my—informants, about a camp at Orotheim. One of the Silver Hand lieutenants there supposedly has plans showing where their main hideout is. If we find that we can chop the head off the serpent."

"I'll head there in a couple days."

"No, now." Bryn sighed, and Aela finally looked up at her. The girl was washed and clean, wearing a colorful wool dress and leather boots, with a fine tooled leather belt around her hips and a fur-trimmed cloak. "Have a date?" Aela asked in a biting tone.

"I hope so." She hadn't seen Vilkas yet; he was probably out in the yard with his brother, training. Bryn was more than a little anxious about seeing him again after how they had parted.

"Good for you, but we have work to do."

"We, or me?"

"What difference does it make?" Aela retorted as she stood. "You're part of the Circle now. You're in this."

"Then why aren't you asking Vilkas or Farkas to help?" Aela knew why, and didn't answer, looking back down at Skjor's armor. The twins wouldn't approve of this at all. When she saw her swallow hard, her eyes shining, Bryn moved closer to her and quietly asked, "Why did he go in alone?"

"I don't know," the huntress whispered painfully. "Farkas asked me that too, and I wish I knew. It was stupid. It wasn't like him to do something so…stupid!"

"Overconfident, maybe."

"That's being too charitable."

"Ria's fond of telling the story about Skjor and Kodlak and the hundred Orc—"

"Forty," Aela corrected as she sank down on the edge of the bed. After a brief hesitation she reached out to stroke the wolf's head that decorated his belt. "And that was a good fifteen years ago. He isn't…wasn't, a young man anymore. He kept himself up well, and he was the most skilled and experienced out of all the Circle, but not in a situation like that. He's an old war horse, meant to fight on an open battlefield, not sneaking around in old forts. Even I'm not, for as well as we did in Gallows Rock. You, you're in your element there, but none of the rest of us are. You cleaned out Treva's Watch single-handedly. None of us could have done that."

Bryn sat down facing her and said, "Well, I don't know about that. I had to rely on a lot of Shouts and healing spells. The silver made it difficult, which I wasn't expecting."

Aela murmured with regret, "Skjor and I did a poor job of bringing you into the Circle. I admit that freely. We should have guessed that your nature would conflict with the Blood, and that you would be rightfully angry about being…well, misled about our plans for the night. We took no time to explain anything at all. We were hasty, in wanting to get to you before Kodlak did."

"Kodlak did long ago. But as I said, I joined the Circle to understand Vilkas better, and to help Kodlak. I failed at the first, but I still intend to succeed at the second. I will help him find a cure, once we're done with the Silver Hand. I can't let them keep hunting us, or torturing those poor creatures they're able to get their hands on." She took an object wrapped in linen out from where it was tucked in her belt. "Here, the fragment."

Aela smiled briefly at her as she took it, and after a brief hesitation took her hand. Bryn gave it a squeeze and put her other over it. "Ah, Sister," the huntress sighed. "It eases my heart to have your help in this. I wish I could go with you, but…my head isn't clear yet." She was exhausted but couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Couldn't do anything but think of Skjor. His scent, which would fade from his armor and his room much too soon. His murmurs of devotion to her that she would never hear again.

"I understand, as much as I can. If someone cost me Vilkas, I'd hunt them to the ends of the earth."

"I wish…I should have told him that I… I should have told him." She couldn't even say it to herself though. She'd loved Skjor. She really had. She wasn't even sure when it had happened. She'd loved him for years as a mentor and close friend, and now she grieved the loss of a mate. He had been everything to her…father, teacher, lover. How she wished she had given him what he wanted years ago, or barring that had simply told him before it was too late that she felt what he had felt, that she returned his feelings and truly felt the mating bond that she had hoped to avoid. She should have known how foolish it was to try. She should have known that no matter her preferences that she was playing with fire to sleep with one of her kind who had loved her for the last nearly twenty years. Nearly twenty years Skjor had watched, and waited, and not six months after finally having her he was dead, and she had not even a child to remember him by.

"I'm sure he knew. Maybe that's why he charged in ahead. Lydia told me a long time ago that men do brave, foolish things when they're in love. It was why I hesitated to let Vilkas go anywhere with me." She sighed. "And now I have to hope that I didn't upset him so much that he's washed his hands of me."

"Doubtful. It takes more than a single spat, or so I've heard. We never…Skjor and I never…" Her voice broke, and she gave Bryn's hand a squeeze and whispered, "I should let you go."

"Only if you want to." Aela held her hand a moment longer then released it on her own, and Bryn let her go. It seemed Aela wanted to be alone. She petted Aela's hair and said with sympathy, "You'll see him again, in the Hunting Grounds. I know it doesn't help any, not when you're left behind, but when a cure is found, I would never ask you to take it. Part of the reason I took the Blood was so that if anything happened to Vilkas, we would end up in the same place."

"You're right, it doesn't help, much. But it's appreciated." Bryn impulsively kissed Aela's forehead, and the redhead sighed and gave her a hint of a smile. If only the girl weren't attached to Vilkas. To have someone else that could take Skjor's place, someone of her preferred gender, would make the pain easier to bear. As Bryn rose she asked, "Close the door on the way out?"

"Of course." Bryn gave her Shield-Sister's shoulder a pat then left, closing the door behind her, then walked away hoping not to hear sudden sobbing. Maybe Aela wouldn't cry. Maybe she didn't know how. It didn't seem healthy.

She was so lost in thought, gazing at the rug on the stone floor, that she nearly ran into the person standing in the open area at the end of the hallway. She stopped short and looked up to see Vilkas there staring at her, a guarded expression on his face, his pale eyes stark against dark war paint. He was wearing his wolf armor, his gauntlets grasped in one hand, the two-handed sword on his back, and a few beads of sweat were drying on his forehead as if he had just been sparring. He was gorgeous.

When Bryn's expression softened he gave her a hint of a smile, testing, and she made a choking sound and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He held her close and whispered, "Ah love, I'm sorry. I'm a jackass."

"No you're not. You were upset but I was just mean. I could never wish we weren't together. I can't believe I said such a horrible thing to you."

"Forget it. Water under the bridge." He pushed her out to look at her and said with a smile, "Don't you look beautiful. Is that all for me?"

"All for you," she replied, then kissed him. He leaned into the kiss, opening his mouth to her, then she heard the clearing of a throat. They broke apart and saw Kodlak sitting in front of his desk, a book in his hands, and he made a shooing motion at them, though he smiled and chuckled before going back to reading. "Whoops," Bryn whispered, her face growing hot as Vilkas took her hand and led her away.

"Shame on you for getting me in trouble like that, you harlot." Bryn made a sound of offense but couldn't help laughing. He led her to his room, saying, "I need to wash and change. Now that you're back we need to have Skjor's memorial." His beloved's smile faded, and he closed the door and put his back against it. Bryn went to sit in a chair as he quietly asked, "Did you accomplish what you set out to do?"

"Yes, and then some."

"How many?"

"Fifteen or so." He whistled and she said, "It isn't as if I made it through without a scratch. And they used silver, so now I have a few more scars, which I'm not particularly happy about. I'm getting rid of this curse the first chance I get."

"I wish you had never taken it on. Kodlak doesn't know yet, or at least I don't think he does." He sighed heavily, "Hell, who am I kidding. Of course he knows. If you get anywhere near him he'll smell it anyway."

She shook her head and looked up at him. "But I don't feel any different," she said in confusion. "Well, I can sense the wolf, like this separate thing inside me, but it's cowering, as if it's trying to hide from me. Smells and sounds are only a little sharper, nothing like what you described. I feel no urge to change, and my sleep is only a bit more restless than before."

"Be glad, love. I wouldn't wish this on anyone." She was right that the Blood didn't seem to have fully taken root in her; her smell had changed, but not as much as it should have. Any werewolf would be able to tell what she was, and yet would be puzzled as to why she seemed slightly off. He was relieved though, for her sake. Her life was full of enough hardships without having to constantly fight the beast. "Was the trip uneventful?"

"Are you changing the subject?"

"Yes, I am."

She snorted a laugh as he moved away from the door and began stripping off his armor. "I ran into another Dark Brotherhood assassin on the way to Treva's Watch. He seemed more advanced than the last two, but still inadequate, obviously, since I'm here. I hope they aren't getting paid much." Vilkas closed his eyes for a few seconds then shook his head and continued undressing. She didn't tell him that she had kept the assassin's armor. He'd want to know why. She wasn't even really sure why, other than that if Maven kept it up she was going to get visited by an unofficial member herself. The thought would have made her squirm a month ago. "I found a little dagger with a shock enchantment on it, in the fort, and the boss had an enchanting desk and an enchanter's elixir, so I now have a very nice shock enchantment on my bow."

"That could be useful, especially against mages. I know of no creature that is resistant to it, as we are to cold and the Dunmer to fire. Storm atronachs, certainly, but I have rarely encountered those." She made a sound of assent. "Did you find the fragment?"

"Yes, what looks like the center piece. I think at this point there should only be one or two still missing."

"By my count, only one."

"Do you think Eorlund could repair it, if he had all the pieces?"

Vilkas looked shocked by the notion. "Why would anyone want to do that?"

"Why _wouldn't_ you?"

"Because…well, it…because it's always been broken, that's why!" Bryn shrugged and left the matter alone. He changed the subject again as he shrugged out of his doublet, asking, "Do you really intend to give Farkas and Lydia the house?" He heard Bryn get up then the pouring of water out of a ewer.

"Yes. I've intended it since you first told me he wanted to marry her. A married couple should have a home of their own, to start a family in, and I wouldn't be who and what I am now without Lydia. I owe her everything."

"Where would you sleep when you're in Whiterun?" He yelped as he felt a cool cloth on his bare back then relaxed, enjoying the feel of Bryn washing him. A bath together would have been nice, but there was no time.

Bryn shrugged. "The free bed in the whelp's quarters, I suppose. Or the Bannered Mare, or—"

"Or my bed." The cloth stopped moving for a moment then continued.

"Hm, that would be awfully nice." She kissed an old scar on his left shoulder blade.

"You're never here for more than a few days," he stated carefully. "Why shouldn't we spend that time together?"

"That makes sense." She moved in front of him and began tenderly wiping his face. "Are you sure Kodlak wouldn't mind?"

"As long as your screaming doesn't wake him up in the middle of the night." She giggled then bit her lip, trying to stay serious. He undid his belt and threw it on the bed. "I've never had any woman in this bed but you. I want you to know that." Her breath caught as she met his eyes, and he stroked her cheek with his thumb as he murmured, "I…appreciate it, what you did. I don't like it, not one bit. But I… appreciate why you did."

"We're in this together," she insisted.

He kissed her nose and agreed, "Aye love, that we are."

"If something happens to you, then I want to go where you go." He looked at her with a pained expression. "I mean it."

"I know you do, but… gods, you're Dragonborn. I can't tolerate the thought of you as Hircine's pet."

"It won't come to that. Kodlak will find the cure. I believe it."

Vilkas didn't but couldn't bring himself to say so. He smiled haltingly then said, "Well then." He didn't know what else to say without making a liar of himself. He wasn't one for platitudes.

"Do you think Farkas will marry Lydia soon?"

He shook his head and stripped off the rest of his clothes then took the washcloth from Bryn. "He wants the beastblood gone first. He believes in Kodlak as much as you do. And he wants to make sure you won't need her any longer."

"I just might be there." Vilkas sucked his breath through his teeth, shaking his head again. "Treva's Watch was a cake walk, honey, really."

"What the hell is a cake walk?"

"Oh, sorry. It's an Altmer children's game." He grunted in understanding. "I feel confident that I can take care of myself now, without Lydia.."

"Maybe you can, but should you? I can't stand thinking about you running about Skyrim alone, with no one at your back, no one to talk to. If nothing else it seems terribly lonely."

"I run into people all the time. It isn't as if I never have anyone to talk to. Besides, I should take Iona out on a few runs. I could tell she was jealous that Lydia got all the fun. And I'm going to buy that big house in Solitude first chance I get, so I'll have a housecarl up in that area to take out." She turned away to take off her cloak, too warm. "I think maybe I should head to Eastmarch when I'm done here, after I stop at Solitude to buy the house. I'm sure there must have been a bounty on that dragon we killed." She looked up at the head, mounted on the wall over his table. "I have to say that looks awfully nice."

"Yes, the others were green with envy. I'm surprised no one else has asked you to take them on a dragon hunting trip yet." He paused then asked in a sober tone, "How was Aela?"

"All right, considering," she replied sadly. "It was awful, seeing her sitting there staring at his armor. I don't know how she isn't crying. She didn't cry when we found him, either."

"I don't think I've seen her shed a tear as long as I've known her. So, the two of them really were…"

"Yes. I don't know how much I should say, but she didn't tell me to keep it to myself. It started with her wanting a daughter." Vilkas made a sound of understanding. "It was a matter of convenience for her, at first, but Skjor already loved her. She said he had since she was fifteen."

"Really," he said in disbelief. "He hid it well. I never guessed. None of us did."

"He told me, before the change, that he only had eyes for Aela." Vilkas sighed in grief. "I think that was why he charged in first. I can't imagine why else he would have. And Aela did, does, love him. She said she never intended to but, well, you can't go doing that with someone you care about, who's in love with you, and not have it happen eventually."

"How terribly sad," he murmured. "I do remember Skjor taking her under his wing, when she first came here. She was like some wild forest creature that someone had captured then dropped off on our doorstep, all big eyes and jumpy reflexes. Her father Henrik was this fire-haired, wiry fox of a man, with the greenest eyes I had ever seen, and they never stopped moving. He came to visit her every few months, but he hated the city. Aela did too, but she was determined to stay and make her mother's memory proud. After a few years he stopped coming, she never knew why. She went to look for him, with Skjor, and he was simply gone, their house closed up as if he had just stepped out. We all think he died somewhere in the wilds. I hope in the course of a hunt and not at the hand of werewolf hunters."

"Both parents werewolves," she said with wonder. "No wonder she can't comprehend giving it up. And now with Skjor gone, if she gets cured they'll be separated forever. She'll never do it, and I would never expect it of her."

"Ach," he said with a quick shake of his head as he pulled fresh clothes on. "My heart bleeds that Skjor is gone, but we all are used to the idea that one of us could fall on any given day, and so we go on. But this business between the two of them makes me want to weep. I don't know how she isn't. This silent despair of hers, it breaks my heart."

"Me too," Bryn whispered. "She let me sit with her for a while and hold her hand. It seemed to comfort her. I'll try to do what I can, but…"

"Aye." It went without saying. Bryn would no doubt be gone again in another day or so. And with one member of the Circle dead and another grieving, there was no way Vilkas could go with her now. Farkas either. The two brothers were now responsible for keeping everything going, and it was a heavy burden. He would have to talk to Kodlak after this and ask if Vignar could be allowed to help, if not join the Circle entirely. The old man was ancient but his mind still sharp as a dagger, no matter Vilkas' jokes to the contrary.

As if reading his mind, Bryn stated, "I worry about things here, Vilkas honey. I honestly do. Skjor gone, Kodlak dying by inches, me never here…and then there's Eorlund, with no successor, and my god what about Tilma? How old is she?"

"Tilma!" he exclaimed. "Great Divines woman, don't give me anything else to worry about! Tilma washed up on shore with Jorrvaskr itself, and will be here long after it crumbles into dust. Don't even speak of such things." Bryn said nothing more, but it wouldn't stop her thinking about it. He had to be glad she cared enough to do so, but he couldn't deal with anything more at the moment. Dressed, he offered her his arm, and she beamed at him and took it. It would have been nice to make love first, but there was no time, and he could smell the scent of menstrual blood on her, which meant no loving afterward either. No matter; he would be content for them to simply lie in each other's arms tonight, and he hoped she would be too. It was somewhat of a relief that she was untouchable for now. He had never had sex with a woman who also carried beastblood. No matter how dominant the dragon in her was, the wolf was still there, lurking.

Bryn kept a smile on her face as they went upstairs to the mead hall, and Vilkas left her there to go help Kodlak prepare for the memorial. She was going to have a good talk with the old man after she got back from her next job for Aela. Vilkas was too high-strung to cope with everything, or even consider what needed coping with, so she would have to take matters into her own hands. She was a member of the Circle now and had every right to do so. She wanted Kodlak to be aware of her concerns and have his blessing to look into alleviating those concerns. She wanted Farkas to follow Eorlund, if the old smith thought he had the aptitude; she wanted Vignar in the Circle; she wanted Tilma to start looking for a protégé. With all that was happening, things were reaching a critical juncture, and it would all fall apart if there was no one person to deal with it. Vilkas was competent to do so, but he was so emotional it sometimes left him unable to properly deal with matters. Maybe that would change after he was cured and the beast wasn't lurking there in his soul, affecting his thoughts and emotional state, but if it didn't then it would be up to Bryn to help him out. She had no intentions whatsoever of becoming Harbinger. None at all. She really hoped Kodlak wasn't going to do that to her.

* * *

"My advice? Always be honest, but don't tell the old man anything he doesn't need to know."

"Fine," Bryn sighed, feeling dread winding itself into a tight ball in the pit of her stomach. How nice that Aela was hanging her out to dry, letting her face Kodlak alone. It seemed rather unfair considering Aela and Skjor were the ones who had gotten her into this. Aela had even had the nerve to say she had been 'running interference' for Bryn, as if covering up an indiscretion of hers. It was galling, but Bryn still grieved for Aela's loss and was wary of being too stern with her. She turned away from the Huntress, who didn't even have the decency to look guilty, and headed for the downstairs, glad the twins were outside with the rank and file so they wouldn't hear her getting dressed down. She had left Vilkas out of her business with Aela for the most part, and Farkas entirely.

Kodlak was in his seat by the small table in the corner, and when he looked up at her she relaxed, seeing him smile slightly. "Thank you for coming," he said.

"You wanted to see me, Harbinger?"

"Yes youngling, have a seat."

The discussion that followed was an incredible relief; the scolding was mild, though it left her worried, and Kodlak's triumph over finally finding the cure was obvious. Witch heads seemed unconventional, but then the Circle clearly weren't conventional werewolves; it had all started with a curse, not the drinking of blood. She couldn't get rid of it soon enough. She had felt the wolf growing bolder lately, trying to assert itself, and it was an extremely uncomfortable feeling. It was easy to agree to wiping out the coven and bringing back the heads. She just hoped they didn't rot on the way home. Skyrim's cool climate would keep them fresh only so long.

"Good, now move quickly. And don't leave any of them alive."

"Yes, Harbinger. I will make sure of it."

"Talos guide you, lass." It was clear that he did; she wore the god's amulet in the open around her neck, with pride. Any Thalmor that ran across that would find it a provocation. What they chose to do about it most likely would end in their death. He couldn't be sorry about that; he performed his own private devotions to the Ninth Divine. As Bryn stood Kodlak caught her hand, and she looked down at him in surprise before giving him a warm smile and grasping his own hand in both hers in return. By the Divines, she was a beautiful girl. Her pale, frosty loveliness was the perfect counterpoint to the dark, fiery Vilkas. He said to her, "We haven't spoken as much as I would have liked."

"I feel the same, Harbinger. There are some things I've been meaning to talk to you about, since I joined the Circle. About our direction, and some things that have me concerned. I have some ideas—"

"Later, lass." It was good to hear though. Change was in the air, and she had brought it. A true harbinger of the times. "I've been thinking as well. The sickness gives me too much time to do that, I'm afraid. As you know all too well, Skjor is gone. The Circle is incomplete. I won't have Aela turn his room into a shrine to him. She is welcome to his armor and any belongings of his she likes, but his room is yours now." Bryn grimaced, as he had known she would. "Give it time, think about it. I know you have that house of yours, but Farkas has told me of your intention to gift him and his bride with it. It's a generous gesture."

"A married couple should have a home to raise their children in," she stated, kneeling at his side so she wouldn't have to keep looking down on him, though she still kept hold of his hand. "Will he have to leave the Companions?"

"No, no," he said with a shake of his shaggy head. "Though I think he will find his role changing. A married man with children won't feel comfortable running off into the wilds, risking his life on a regular basis. There have been married Companions, even married members of the Circle. Vilkas and Farkas weren't the first children to be raised in this hall, by far, though it has been a long time, and I wouldn't recommend it. Children are a distraction. A delightful one at times, but a distraction nonetheless. The twins were a constant trial."

"I can only imagine."

"They were entertaining at times though, I'll admit that. As much as my mind turns to Sovngarde, it also turns to the past. I've told Vilkas this, but the years while the boys were growing up here were some of my best. Children give one a sense of purpose that nothing else quite does. It makes me proud to see the fine men they are and know that I had a hand in making them what they are. I can only hope that I live long enough to see Farkas' first child born." Bryn gave a quirk of a smile, suddenly saddened. The reason was easy to guess, beyond the discomfort of contemplating his own demise, and he wasn't going to get involved unless he was asked to. That was between the two of them to sort out in years to come. Kodlak knew why Bryn had come to Skyrim, and while her target had changed, the ultimate goal had not. Seeing the two lovebirds together the other day had warmed his heart, Vilkas vulnerable and Bryn adoring, still in the throes of new love. It would be a shame to see that dashed and broken, either because of Vilkas' fears or Bryn's nature, but the girl's fate wasn't really hers to fully determine.

"I am glad that being a Companion and member of the Circle doesn't mean giving up hope of a marriage and children. Farkas will make a good husband and father. I've been meaning to talk to Eorlund about Farkas' future, no matter how much Farkas protests that only Gray-Manes can work the Skyforge."

"They haven't always. As I just told you, we're nearly five thousand years old, this group. Many things can change then back again over such a vast period of time. Ask Vignar and he'll tell you his family has worked the Skyforge since the time of his grandfather's father. A couple hundred years at most. I like the idea of Farkas smithing for the Companions. It's a sensible idea. I look forward to hearing more about it when you return." It was for this very reason that Kodlak was determined to have the girl take after him, no matter how much he knew Vilkas wanted the position. Vilkas wanted it for the wrong reasons. Kodlak had originally intended Skjor to follow after him, until that dream came along and the girl showed up. She had done nothing but affirm his faith in her and the trueness of the dream. He rarely had them, a gift/curse that ran in his family, but when he did they were true seeings. Bryn had become everything he had hoped: strong, competent, rational, intelligent. Vilkas was most of those things as well, but too volatile to lead effectively. Even when he was cleansed of the beastblood that might still be so. As a child Vilkas' tantrums had been absolutely hellish.

Knowing she was being dismissed, Bryn stood and let go of Kodlak's hand. She hesitated then leaned over to kiss his forehead lingeringly, murmuring against it, "I will see your spirit safe into Shor's Hall, I swear it, beloved Harbinger."

"I've never doubted it, lass," he said in a rough voice. "Not from the moment I laid eyes on you. Now go, and don't tarry." She pulled away and smiled at him one last time then walked away, her footsteps nearly silent. Her shoulders were square and straight, her head high and proud, her walk feminine but determined, her arms and legs well-muscled. So different from the flighty, gawky bird of a girl she had been only half a year ago.

As she disappeared out of sight he hauled himself out of his seat with a groan and went to his desk to make another entry in his journal. He had never been a writer but had felt driven to it lately. Some Harbingers had left barely a trace of themselves in the archives while others had been prolific chroniclers. He paused halfway to the desk to let the sudden deep pain pass, resisting the urge to down one of the Imperial apothecary Arcadia's potions. He had wanted a clear head while dealing with Bryn, and he wanted to retain it while he wrote down his thoughts.

He was extremely pleased that the girl continued to consider her future tied to that of the Companions. He had feared she would outgrow the lot of them and gradually distance herself. He knew her attachment to Vilkas and affection for Farkas helped with that, though he wanted to believe that she would still care without that. Her concerns for their future and the obvious time she had spent pondering the solutions to their many problems was heartening. She was definitely the one the Companions needed to continue forward. Kodlak only hoped that his choice didn't break Vilkas' heart. The young man simply felt everything too strongly, and Kodlak had to be somewhat cold-blooded in his choice. It wasn't even that Vilkas really wanted the responsibility; he would be wounded that Kodlak hadn't thought him capable of taking it on. The hard truth was that he wasn't. Not the way he was now. There was no knowing if that would ever change.

When he finished jotting down his latest entry he stood and made his way into his bedroom to stow away the journal in his side table. His eyes lit on the large, ornate chest against one wall. He went to it, unlocking it and opening the lid, and gazed at the two sets of armor within. Until joining the Circle some thirty-five years ago, he had worn the armor on the left: a full set of fine ebony plate. On the right was the steel plate wolf armor that all in the Circle wore except Aela. His lip curled as he stared at the wolf head on the breastplate. He hoped the twins had the sense after all was said and done to abandon the armor for something more appropriate. For himself, he would never touch the armor again, in fact his first order of business after the cure would be to have Eorlund melt the cursed stuff down. He snorted a laugh to himself, wondering who he was kidding. He was unlikely to ever wear armor again.

He picked up an ebony gauntlet and ran his hand over the gold embossing on it, enjoying the soft sheen of the black metal in the lamplight. It was armor he had worn with pride, an object of appreciation and envy everywhere he had gone, rare and precious. He had earned this armor through blood and sweat and hardship; the wolf armor was a reward for being a fool. He suddenly thought that he would like Vilkas to have the ebony. The younger man was half a head taller than Kodlak but had a similar build; it would be an easy matter for Eorlund to tailor the fit of the armor to Vilkas. The boy would look impressive in it, having a certain bearing his twin didn't. Farkas was just too damn bulky to fit in it regardless, and his fighting days were numbered at this point now that he'd stated his intention to marry someday soon.

Kodlak put the gauntlet away and closed the lid, wondering if he shouldn't make a brief, preliminary list of his belongings that he wished to pass on. It wouldn't hurt, and it could be refined later on if needed. Skjor's untimely death had driven home the lesson that one's end could come at any time, and he certainly could use something to do until Bryn returned in a few days.

He went back out to his desk and got out a piece of paper, a quill and an inkpot and took it back to his room. He smiled to himself as he started the list, the ebony armor the first entry. His next most precious possession was the unusual gem that floated in its brass case. It had belonged to his predecessor and mentor, Askar, who had always refused to broach the subject of where it had come from. In any case it was beautiful and unusual, like Bryn herself, and so he willed it to her. He spent the next hour cataloguing the accumulated treasures of his sixty-four years on Nirn, the somewhat morbid task bringing him a great deal of satisfaction. Everyone would have a small piece to remember him by, even the younglings. He blew on the ink to dry it then folded it and put it in the top drawer of his side table next to his journal, setting his own personal chunk of Wuuthrad on top to weigh it down. Eorlund knew the piece was here and what to do with it, when the time came, so the list would be seen.

A gut-wrenching agony suddenly twisted through him, bringing him to his knees. He knelt there, gasping, tears rising in his eyes, glad that he was next to the bed so something would catch his fall. He clutched the bedding, whispering breathlessly, "Vilkas!" He knew the younger man was outside training, that everyone but Tilma was outside, and she was so frail at a good fifteen years older than him that she could hurt herself trying to help him, so he bit his lip and bore the pain until it passed, the worst it had been yet. It had been so bad this time that he had nearly lost control of his bodily functions, and that wouldn't do. He would rather deal with the small indignity of being tired and distracted than that. Anything but that. He would drag his sorry ass out onto the plains and let himself get smashed by a giant before he wet or messed himself like an infant.

Once the pain subsided he instantly went to his strongbox and pulled out one of Arcadia's potions and drank it down, his hands still shaking. It took several minutes for complete relief to come, and while he waited he vowed not to let this happen again. Bryn was on her way at this very moment to deal with the Glenmoril Witches with her usual swift efficiency, so the cure was nearly in his hands, and he had taken care of assigning his belongings, and he knew who the next Harbinger would be. He had hoped he would have a couple years to train the girl more properly, but after today he wasn't certain he had the time. When Bryn returned he would have to sit the girl down and be honest with her about his intentions, then let the others know that she was his successor. That would give everyone time to absorb the news and Bryn the time to finish her business with the Greybeards and Alduin. The first order of business however would be the cure. He had to make certain his soul was clean, worthy of going before Tsun for judgment, and he had to make certain that the Dragonborn's soul was as well. He hadn't spoken to her or the twins or Aela about it, but he had smelled wolf on her, faint but there: female wolf that was not Aela. It was his way to deal with matters head on, but this was something he simply didn't have the energy to grapple with. They would get her cured, and the twins as well, and put the last few sordid centuries behind them.


	19. Chapter 19

"Go on, boy," Kodlak growled, waving Vilkas away. "I feel fine. I can sure as hell put on my own pajamas."

"As you wish," Vilkas replied, trying not to feel hurt or irritated. It wasn't easy, with Bryn gone the last two and a half days and no one knowing where, or not telling rather. He hadn't asked Kodlak, wary of looking like a lovesick child in front of him. Bryn should have told Vilkas she was leaving. She had told Lydia but hadn't said where she was going, only that she would be gone for a few days somewhere in Falkreath hold and that it was urgent. There hadn't been any deception in Lydia's eyes, in fact if she had known Lydia would have told him so and told him also that she couldn't say where. Vilkas couldn't imagine anything that was so very urgent that Bryn couldn't be bothered to let her own…whatever he was, know. Lover, partner…he didn't even know what to call himself. He didn't feel like much of a partner when she just took off without giving him the common courtesy of saying where. Before he turned away, he asked Kodlak, "Are you hungry, Harbinger?"

"No, no, Tilma already took care of that." Realizing he was being snappish, Kodlak softened his tone and added, "Thank you, son. I ate well, I'm just a little tired. I'm going to lie down with a book."

Vilkas gave him a brief smile. "All right. Good night."

"Good night."

His duty done, he headed for his own room to strip off his armor and wash, and perhaps take Kodlak's cue and lie in bed and read. He certainly had time for it. He hoped Bryn's menses was over when she returned so they could spend a proper night or two together. Maybe he could even ask her to move in with- He shook his head as he entered his room. His room that was quite big enough for him, but not for another person. It was fine for a night here and there, but it wasn't a home. Maybe once the sting of Skjor's death wasn't so great, she could take his quarters. Maybe after Farkas and Lydia married. Farkas spent nearly every night at Breezehome these days when Bryn was gone, and was no doubt going over there in a few minutes. Vilkas could hear him moving around his room, their doors open. It was late, after dinner, and everyone was downstairs readying for bed.

The shrill sound of a woman shrieking startled him out of his thoughts, and he buckled back up his armor and grabbed his sword as he ran out of his room, his twin and Aela on his heels. The younglings were pouring out of the whelps' quarters and through the open door past Tilma, who had been the source of the scream, her hands over her mouth. The sound of combat upstairs left Vilkas no time to ask what was wrong.

As he ran up the stairs he nearly stopped in shock to see all the pieces of Wuuthrad were gone. Pieces he had seen mounted there since the day he and Farkas had come here. He rushed up the stairs to see the four younglings fighting their attackers valiantly. Attackers with shining silver weapons. His blood boiling, he whipped his sword off his back and shouted, "Silver Hand! It is us you want!" Several of the attackers broke away and headed for the three Circle members, while two others ran out the back doors carrying a sack with what he could only assume were the fragments of Wuuthrad.

A swell of helpless fury went through him as he saw Athis fall, clutching his gut. Vilkas moved through the room, trying to get to his Dunmer Shield-Brother and Ria, who was bravely trying to protect him. He had no time to pay attention to what Aela and Farkas were doing; they were experienced and could fend for themselves.

As he reached Athis he saw a fresh wave of attackers come through the front door at the same time that he heard a roar of rage. He spun about to see with horror that Kodlak had come upstairs. He'd had no time to get armored, in fact had only his underclothes on, his warhammer swinging wildly around him. Vilkas felled the two Silver Hand who had taken down Athis then ran toward Kodlak, who was barely holding off the three who circled him, looking for an opening. Vilkas screamed in horror as he saw one of them run Kodlak through from behind at the same time Farkas saw it; Kodlak spun and smashed his hammer through the man's skull, but that left an opening for the other two to attack, and Kodlak quickly crumpled to the ground. The twins converged on the remaining two, finishing them off quickly, but it was already too late.

Vilkas stared numbly at the Harbinger's body, not hearing the distant sounds of fighting outside; the only sound inside was Athis' groans of pain, but that meant he was still alive. Vilkas thought he might have heard his brother say his name, then Farkas turned away and ran out the front doors. Sinking to his knees, Vilkas took Kodlak's hand, and it was limp in his. Lifeless. He supposed he should be glad that Kodlak had fallen in battle instead of wasting away as an invalid. That was how Companions were supposed to die, wasn't it? He vaguely noted Njada falling to her knees next to him.

"They took Wuuthrad," she stated. Vilkas didn't answer, seeming in a daze, and she grabbed his shoulder and shook it hard. "Cope, damn it!" she shouted. He snarled at her and hit her hand away, his pale eyes dilated, and she shrank back, staring at him in disquiet. "They took Wuuthrad," she repeated.

"Fuck Wuuthrad!" he spat, getting to his feet. "Kodlak's dead!"

"Yes, but the rest of us are still alive." Though she wasn't sure how much longer Athis would be.

Someone burst through the doors and they spun around, armed, but it was Farkas. He went to his brother and Njada and said, "The rest are dead. And I saw Bryn coming back, down in the market." Vilkas rose to his feet, his nostrils flared, giving off waves of violent scent, and before he could leave Farkas grabbed him hard by the front of his armor and stopped him, saying through gritted teeth, "You let her be, damn it. She had no idea."

"She would have made the difference," Vilkas hissed. His beast was tearing at him from the inside, begging for release. For vengeance and blood.

Farkas growled at him, "Don't you dare. This wasn't her fault." He could sense Vilkas' beast close to the surface, his brother's pupils dilating then shrinking again as he fought for control. Farkas dragged him close by brute force and shouted in his face, "I hope to hell you aren't our new Harbinger! Tell me Kodlak wasn't that stupid!" That shocked Vilkas out of his rage like a bucket of ice cold water. Farkas let him go and said furiously, "We don't have time for your bullshit!" Vilkas stared at him then nodded curtly. "Aela said she knows where their last hideout is. Go talk to her."

Vilkas pushed past his twin, shoving his sword onto his back. He went out through the doors and saw Torvar and Aela outside, Silver Hand bodies strewn everywhere, the front steps of Jorrvaskr splashed with blood. He went to the huntress and said intently, "You know where they took Wuuthrad?"

"Yes I do," she stated, still scanning the area for any hidden attackers. "Bryn came back with the information just a few days ago. Driftshade Refuge, southeast of Dawnstar. So the old man is gone now too?"

"Yes."

"Then I suggest you watch it with Bryn. We're down too many at this point to lose another because you can't control yourself and ran her off."

Vilkas growled at her and she sneered at him then walked away down the steps to check on Torvar. Vilkas stayed at the top of the stairs, waiting for Bryn, trying desperately to stuff down his anger. A crowd had gathered at the bottom of the stairs, whispering amongst themselves, wondering what the hell was going on, and he didn't know what to say. He didn't even know what to say to the junior members about why the Silver Hand had attacked here. How did you explain why known werewolf hunters had targeted Jorrvaskr? It would make too many things start coming together in the others' minds.

He turned away and went back inside Jorrvaskr to await Bryn, who was most likely doing something very important like selling treasure to Belethor or talking alchemical recipes with Arcadia. His brother and Njada were seated by Kodlak's body, which had been arranged in a dignified manner and covered with a cloak. The only thing Vilkas could be glad for was that Vignar hadn't been here. Losing three of their most experienced members in the space of a couple weeks would be something they'd never recover from. He might as well burn Jorrvaskr down right now and just walk away.

He heard a groan of pain from Athis and was going to check on him when he heard the front door open. He heard a choked sound of grief and slowly turned around. Bryn stood there in shock, her hand over her mouth, looking grubby and worn, a burlap sack over her shoulder, and the thought of whatever frivolous little quest she had been on this time enraged him. "Where have you been!" he barked at her. She flinched, tearing her eyes away from Kodlak's body to stare at Vilkas with wide, wet eyes. "I asked you a question!" he shouted.

"I-I was doing Kodlak's bidding," she whispered.

"I hope it was important, because it means you weren't here to defend him!"

Hurt, she cried, "I wasn't here because he told me to go!" He huffed and rubbed his face, smearing warpaint, and she asked in a shaking voice, "What happened?"

"Silver Hand. They finally found enough courage to attack Jorrvaskr. We fought them off, but…the old man…Kodlak…he's dead. They made off with all our fragments of Wuuthraad, but you and I are going to reclaim them. We will bring the battle to their chief camp. There will be none left living to tell their stories. Only songs of Jorrvaskr will be sung. We will avenge Kodlak and they will know terror before the end." There was another groan from Athis', and Bryn dropped the sack to rush to aid him. Vilkas grabbed her arm and hauled her back, yelling, "Did you hear me, woman?"

"Yes, I heard you! He's dead! Do you want Athis to be too?" He let go of her arm, and as she rubbed it she hissed at him, "Touch me like that again and I'll flatten you, Vilkas. I'll Shout you into the wall." She stalked away and readied healing hands, kneeling down to pour golden light over the Dunmer. His sounds of pain instantly shut off, replaced with sighs, and she kept it up until he held up his hand, opening his blood-red eyes. She put her hand on his arm and asked, "Are you all right, sera?"

"I am now, muthsera. I thank you." He reached out and grasped Ria's shoulder, saying in a barely controlled voice, "You saved my life, little Shield-Sister. I will not forget your bravery." Ria smiled briefly at him, tears streaking her face.

Bryn left Athis there to recuperate then went to pick up the sack again, reluctant to let it out of her sight. Vilkas stood staring down at Kodlak's body, his fists clenched, his jaw trembling and eyes wild. She ignored him, knowing any attempts to comfort him would be rebuffed. She wasn't about to leave herself open to that. She knelt by Farkas and he leaned against her, and she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his temple, taking comfort herself from holding him. She looked across Kodlak to Njada, and when the other woman's bleak eyes met hers she asked, "Were any others but Athis wounded? Where are Vignar, Brill and Tilma?"

Njada shook her head and answered, "The Revered and Brill are at house Gray-Mane. Tilma's downstairs, terrified out of her wits. It was her scream that roused us. She opened the downstairs door to see them taking down the fragments and stuffing them in a sack." She shook her head, her usual hard demeanor gone. "Why? Why did they do all this? Why us? What did we ever do to them?"

Bryn didn't look up at Vilkas, keeping her expression even. She raised her voice so that Athis and Ria could hear. "Skjor and Aela stumbled upon their operations, several months ago. The Silver Hand, they started as werewolf hunters, but they've become corrupted. They've been capturing and torturing people just on the suspicion that they might be werewolves. There was a man here some years ago, a member of the Circle named Arnbjorn-"

"I remember him," Athis stated. "He was thrown out. So he was one then."

"Yes. That was why he was thrown out. From what I've seen, not all werewolves are evil, in fact I would venture to say most aren't. But he was. After he left here, who knows what he did to get their attention, but they eventually followed his trail back to Jorrvaskr, assuming everyone here must be a werewolf." Njada nodded slowly and Farkas grunted. Bryn was actually amazed that she had been able to explain everything away without telling a single lie. The words had just flowed out, as of their own accord.

Njada said, "And you're going to make them pay, right?"

Vilkas stated, "Yes, we will make them pay." But Njada wasn't looking at him. She was looking at Bryn. _To_ Bryn. All of them were.

Bryn let go and leaned across Kodlak, offering Njada her hand, and after a brief hesitation the shield-maiden took it. She didn't smile, she never did, but there was acceptance there. Bryn squeezed it then let go, giving Farkas a kiss on the head before standing. Not looking at Vilkas she said to him, "Get your things and meet me at the gates." He turned away without a word. This was certainly going to be one hell of a trip. She hoped they were able to sort things out on the way.

Once his brother was gone, Farkas sighed heavily and stood as well, and when she headed for the doors he followed. Once they were outside he gently tapped her shoulder, wary of angering her as his brother had. She paused and looked up at him, and he quietly said, "We need you, little bird."

"I know," she said with a nod.

"He can't lead us. His beast nearly got out again, this time in front of everyone. He's been a real asshole the last few days, and then this."

"Because I left without telling him where I went."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"I had to. I had to leave right away, because Kodlak told me to. Do you know what's in this bag, big bear?" He shook his head. "The cure."

Farkas' eyes widened, suddenly bright with hope. "No shit," he breathed.

"Right now, this bag is the most precious thing in the world to me. This bag holds our future. It's too late for Kodlak, but not for you, me and Vilkas. Aela will never take the cure, and I wouldn't ask her to."

"She wants to see Skjor again." Bryn nodded. "Hey, on your way out…tell Lydia I won't be able to make it tonight. I have to stay here and help Aela take care of things."

"Yes, definitely. I'm leaving the heads with her anyway."

Farkas' nose wrinkled as he exclaimed, "Heads!"

"It's a long story. Will you make sure all this mess gets cleaned up?" Farkas nodded; he could handle that. "And could you send one of the younglings to fetch…ah, never mind, there he is." Old Vignar was pushing his way through the crowd, and she moved to the stairs to wait for him, Farkas following.

The elder looked up at her with an expression of grief, whispering, "Another one gone, then."

"Yes, Revered. I'm sorry," she murmured, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I was going to ask if you could arrange Kodlak's funeral, and guide Aela and Farkas while Vilkas and I are gone. We're leaving to go after the ones who did this."

"Silver Hand. It's damn obvious who this was, and it damn well better not get out."

"I've given the younglings an explanation that made sense, and was not a lie. I told them Arnbjorn was the root of this, that the Silver Hand traced his activities back here and assumed we were all werewolves."

"Clever girl."

"Well, Vilkas is in a state, as you can imagine. And I have the cure here. We'll get all this sorted out."

"With you at the helm, I hope, or by the Nine I'm walking away right now."

"Yes, Revered."

"Good, good."

"The next Harbinger, whoever that might be, would appreciate the benefit of your wisdom within the Circle."

"You get that cure taken care of, and I'll think about it."

"Thank you, Revered." The old man nodded and headed up the steps. Bryn went to Aela nearby and said, "Vilkas and I are leaving. I'm not sure how long this will take, hopefully only a couple days. Would you help Vignar with managing things here? I have Farkas overseeing the cleanup."

"I'll keep the whelps in line," the redhead stated. She put her hand over her nose and pointed at the sack. "And what is that…stench?"

"Witch heads. They actually smelled this bad alive."

"Good gods! Get it out of here!"

Bryn couldn't help but laugh a bit at that. She motioned with her head at Farkas and said, "You two will have to keep everything running, but Vignar will be here too—"

"Fine, fine, just get those damn things away from me!" She retched a little, suddenly nauseous. The reek was absolutely overpowering, a combination of rancid meat and mold and dirty bird feathers.

Bryn nodded and turned away, giving Farkas a slap on the shoulder before heading down the stairs. The crowd parted for her, and when she reached the young Gildergreen the commander of the guard, Caius, called for her attention, wanting to know exactly what was going on in his city. She explained the situation in a similar manner to how she had earlier, and he was satisfied by it and headed up to Dragonsreach to inform the Jarl. Now that Caius knew he would tell the guards, who were a talkative bunch and would spread it from there.

Lydia wasn't happy about the smelly bag being left in her care, looking at Bryn skeptically when she told her that it was the most important thing in the world to her right now, but she took it and stuffed it in an empty barrel under the stairs, then rolled the barrel into the alchemy lab and shut the door. Bryn grabbed a quick bowl of stew, wondering where Vilkas was and what was taking him so long. Lydia had her pack cleaned out and restocked, and after a quick wash of her face, she was ready to go. She saw Vilkas waiting by the gates, as she had told him to, and it sent hot irritation and hurt through her that he hadn't come to the house, where he surely knew she had been. She ignored him and ran across the street to buy more arrows from Elrindir at The Drunken Huntman.

Bryn walked past Vilkas and out the gates, hearing him follow, and she debated buying a couple horses to hurry things up and put a bit more distance between them. She decided against it; she would have to turn back to get the gold, which would put a significant dent in her Proudspire Manor fund. While she would be stuck in Whiterun for a while, it wouldn't be forever; dealing with Alduin and the dragons was still a very pressing priority, and to do that she had to grow her Voice, and she couldn't do that here. As they passed the stables she also debated taking a wagon up to Dawnstar, but it wouldn't move any faster than she and Vilkas could on foot, and then she would be stuck sitting there with him. Better to just hit the road north and start walking.

Not a word was said between them until they reached the Loreius Farm, when they heard running feet behind them. They stopped, hands on their weapons, and saw a courier coming at full speed. As the young man was catching his breath, Bryn said to him, "Let me guess. A letter for me. You're not sure who from, only that he said he was a friend of mine."

The courier's eyebrows shot up and he squawked, "How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess." She held out her hand and he stared at her in disbelief then slowly handed it over. "What did he look like? Where did he give this to you?"

"Nord fellow. Older. Somewhere outside Windhelm." He shrugged. "There wasn't really anything unusual about him, though he was wearing Stormcloak gear. Can't quite remember. He was alone though."

"All right. Thank you." He took off at a run back towards town. She tucked the letter in her belt and continued walking.

After several minutes Vilkas couldn't contain himself any longer and muttered, "Aren't you going to open it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I already know what it says."

He said in a sarcastic tone, "My, your legend grows. Now you can read letters without even opening them." Bryn yanked the letter out and shoved it at his chest then kept walking, not once meeting his eyes. He grumbled and broke the seal.

_Brynhilde,_

_You caused a bit of stir in Orotheim when you demonstrated the power of your Thu'um. Not everyone is anxious for the return of the Dragonborn. I for one desire to see you grow and develop your talents. Skyrim needs a true hero these days._

_You should turn your attention to Ironbind Barrow. I understand it holds a mysterious source of power that can only be unlocked by the Dragonborn._

_Sincerely,_

_A Friend_

He refolded the letter and jogged to catch up with Bryn. "When were you in Orotheim?" He knew the cave, not far from the city of Whiterun. It needed frequent cleaning out, as it was inhabited by an endless succession of bandits and mammoth poachers.

"A few days ago. It was a Silver Hand lair. It was where I found out about Driftshade Refuge."

"Did anyone get out alive?"

"No, not a single one of them."

"So how could anyone know you had been there, or used your _thu'um?_ Windhelm is on the other side of the country. How could this man, whoever he is, know you had used your voice in some cave that far away?"

"Yes, that's the question, isn't it? It has been all along."

When she said nothing more he nearly left it at that, but at least she was talking to him, though he was getting tired of her not looking at him. "How many of these have you gotten?"

"This is the fourth."

"Is it always the same? The man, the location?"

"The wording of the letters, yes. I didn't think to ask the first time about the sender. The second it was a middle-aged Imperial man, wearing Legionnaire armor, on an empty road outside Solitude. The third it was an older Nord man in iron armor somewhere in Winterhold. Now this one. Different every time, but always a middle-aged to older man, and always out away from other people where no one else can see him."

"And always, there's no way he could have known that you used the _thu'um_ in that particular place at that particular time." She made a sound of assent. Vilkas shivered. There was the touch of the supernatural about all this. "Do you have any idea who it is?"

"An idea, but that's all. Where am I to go this time?"

"Ironbind Barrow. It's somewhat on the way to where we're going, but we have no time either on the way there or back. Kodlak's funeral needs arranging."

"I already have Vignar taking care of it while we're gone. Farkas is getting things cleaned up and Aela is overseeing the younglings. Everything is under control."

He snorted and said with irritation, "Of course it is." He stopped in his tracks and stepped back as Bryn rounded on him, her eyes blazing with fury.

"_Enough!"_ she shouted, the sound of thunder cracking around them. "What do you want me to do, let everything fall apart? Who else do you think is going to manage things, _you?"_ He had the sense not to protest that he could have. If he could, he would have, and he hadn't. "You nearly let everyone see you change. You left Athis bleeding on the floor. You let everything go to hell in your grief. And worst of all, you laid a hand on me in anger, and in front of everyone at that. I can still feel it on my arm. I hope it leaves a bruise so you can see with your own eyes what _you did to me!"_

Vilkas gasped, feeling a shudder of terror go down his spine as the words roared at him. He'd had no idea her Voice had grown to the point where she could Shout without using words of power. He had never seen her so furious, and there was something more terrible about how controlled her fury was. And it was all directed at him. He remembered now that he had grabbed her, but he hadn't imagined it was that hard, though in hindsight and with a cool head he saw how unforgivable it was.

"Is that how human men handle their women? I suppose that's why it's called manhandling, isn't it? A mer would never have done such a barbaric thing to someone they _claim_ to love!"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"I don't want your sorries after the fact! I want you to stop and think about what you're about to do before you do it!"

"I can't." That set her back a bit, and she put her hand on her hip and glared at him, waiting. "All I can do is say that I'm sorry afterward," he stated, his voice breaking. Everything she had said was true. Njada's demand that he cope had been completely justified. They had all watched him not coping, and then Bryn had swept in and put everything in order, always calm and collected in a crisis. "I want to blame it on the beastblood, but I'm not so sure anymore that it isn't just me."

Feeling sorry for him against her will, she turned away and said, "Well, before too long we're going to find out, aren't we."

He followed her, asking, "What do you mean?"

She snorted in derision. "The sack. Did you stop to wonder at any point what I had in the sack? What Kodlak sent me out for? No, of course you didn't."

He swallowed down the pang of hurt her words caused and asked, "What was in the sack?"

"All five heads of the Glenmoril Witches. The creatures that put the curse on the Companions in the first place." She heard Vilkas' sharp intake of breath as he stopped, and she turned to look at him. His eyes glistened, and she stated, "Yes, I was out getting the cure. Kodlak found it and sent me for it. He told me to leave right away, and so I did. _That_ is why I wasn't there." Her anger faltered as she saw tears well up in his eyes. He looked away as one slid down his cheek, and he roughly scrubbed it away, smearing his warpaint even worse than before. She resisted the urge to go to him, though it was hard. She had never seen him cry before, and she didn't know if it was guilt over his treatment of her or relief over the cure or grief over Kodlak. Maybe all of the above. She went on, "It's too late for Kodlak, but not for us. I'm getting rid of this curse after we get back, once everything is straightened out." He said nothing, and she didn't press to ask if he would get rid of it as well. They had time to sort that out.

Bryn was relieved that nothing more was said as they made their way north. They encountered a few wolves and sabre cats that she was able to calm with Kyne's Peace, but the Shout didn't work on the frost troll they ran across. After a while they came across a shrine to Talos, and Bryn insisted on pausing there for her to pray for the god's blessing, even though the weather was quickly turning, snowflakes starting to fall in flurries. He waited near the road, and after a few minutes saw movement on it, heading the same direction as them. There hadn't been anyone behind them as far as the eye could see, so they must have been coming from the other road that came from Winterhold. As they got closer he saw the glint of bright armor, and he realized with dismay that they were Thalmor Justiciars, with a human man between them. He watched them for a moment, seeing the usual two warriors and one wizard, and when they noticed him he turned away and hurried to Bryn.

Finished with her prayers and feeling buoyed by Talos' blessing, Bryn stood and asked a clearly worried Vilkas, "What's wrong?"

"Thalmor Justiciars, coming this way. We need to get out of here. If they see us here at the shrine…"

"The usual three?" He nodded. "What were the warriors wearing?"

"What?" She smiled at him then rotated her neck and shoulders. He stammered, "I don't know, glass I think."

"Was one of them female?"

"Both were, why?"

She grinned and purred, "Perfect." Vilkas stared at her with sudden, shocked realization. She centered her Amulet of Talos so it couldn't be missed. "You might want to stay here for a bit."

"Like hell I will!"

"I'd rather their captive didn't see one of the Companions with me."

"But everyone already knows you're a Companion!" he protested. "If you Shout he'll know who you are!"

"Yes, but this way we can say I was operating alone, as the Dragonborn." She looked at him earnestly and pleaded more seriously, "Please, I'm asking you to stay here. This shouldn't take very long."

Vilkas said nothing but didn't move to follow her, and she turned away and walked to the road to wait. He did move into the shadow of the stone arch that led to the shrine, just in case she needed help, though he knew damn well she wouldn't. As he waited she moved into the center of the road, the Shield of Solitude on one arm, her other hand on the hilt of Dawnbreaker. The Thalmor neared her and it took all his willpower to stay where he was and simply watch, which he did with mixed dread and anticipation. He honestly wasn't sure what she was going to do. Kill them certainly, but he wasn't sure how, since she coveted the glass armor and would want to take it undamaged.

"You there!" the Justiciar wizard barked. "Stand aside. You're interfering with official Thalmor business."

"What business would that be?" Bryn asked.

"None of your concern. Remove yourself from my presence while you still draw breath."

She nodded to the Nord behind the wizard, asking, "Where are you taking him?"

One of the female warriors stated, "We're taking this…_man_ to be interrogated."

"Why, what has he done?"

The wizard stated, "He has knowledge of a cult of Talos worshippers. He will tell us what he knows or he will die. The choice is his." He looked her up and down and said, "You're taking a great deal of interest in our business, and…_what_ is that? Is that an amulet of _Talos_ you're wearing?"

"It certainly looks like it."

"It is immoral to worship a man. A faithful Imperial citizen would know this. Perhaps there's something you wish to confess."

Bryn said nothing, looking at the terrified man at the center. He looked as if he had already been beaten, his face bruised. She knew that once they pulled whatever information they were looking for out of him he would die anyway, and he probably knew it too. She caught his eye and gave him a brief smile, her expression serene, and he nodded faintly and tensed, readying himself.

"Your silence is answer enough," the wizard stated.

Vilkas' heart went into his throat as the wizard's hands lit up and the three Altmer spread out. The captive dove for the nearest snow drift out of the way as Bryn whipped out Dawnbreaker. The two warriors conjured bound swords and went after Bryn while the wizard threw lightning bolts. Bryn Shouted _"FO KRAH!"_ at the warriors, who fell to their knees, having no resistance at all to cold, then she went after the wizard. Vilkas' hands clenched and unclenched as he fought the urge to run out there. The wizard went down after a few hits from both Dawnbreaker and the shield, and as the warriors struggled to their feet Bryn Shouted a cone of frost at them again, bringing them to their knees once more, then one fell over on her side, dead.

Bryn waited patiently for her Voice to reach full strength again, and watched dispassionately as the remaining Altmer warrior began crawling away. The Nord man was peeking around the snow drift, watching with wide eyes. Bryn ignored him for now, wanting this over with so the man could go free and the Thalmor bodies moved off the road, and divested of their valuables. When she felt able Bryn walked up behind the last mer and Shouted _"FO KRAH!"_ again, and the Elf woman groaned and fell onto her face.

As Bryn flipped the warrior onto her back, the Nord man called out, "They're dead, right?"

"Yes, quite," she replied, motioning him over. "Come kinsman, let's get those ropes off."

As she cut his bonds he said in excitement, "You're the Dragonborn, aren't you! The one everyone is talking about?"

"Yes, that would be me. And your name?"

"Jerek." The ropes fell away and he gasped as healing magic poured over him. "My thanks, my lady… lady…"

"Brynhilde." She handed him an Elven dagger and potions and food, along with a few septims. "Where will you go now?"

"Windhelm," he said proudly. "I've debated joining up with the Stormcloaks, but this was the final straw." He paused then urged, "Come with me, Dragonborn. Think of what Ulfric could do with you under his banner!"

"Yes, I have thought about it, quite a bit, and that's why I will never join his cause."

"My lady!" he protested. "Tell me you aren't loyal to the Imperials!"

"No, I'm loyal to the folk of Skyrim, and I won't help Ulfric keep tearing it apart. I absolutely refuse to take sides." He shook his head, looking disillusioned. She pointed at the dead Justiciar at her feet. "_That_ is the problem! You think killing Legionnaires will get rid of the Thalmor? All that does is leave fewer humans to fight them!" He frowned, looking down at the bodies. She waved him off as she knelt down to start unbuckling the armor. The beautiful, gleaming glass armor. This Altmer woman was just her height, though more slender. "Go, report to Ulfric if you want. When you do, ask yourself what he wants more: peace in Skryim, or to be High King? He won't get both."

"With you at his side he could. Please."

"No. I won't help him kill his own people, and I sure as hell won't help him put a crown on his head. Tell him that if he asks you why the Dragonborn wouldn't join his cause. Or I will, when I reach Windhelm. I'm going to stand in front of Ulfric before too much longer, and I won't be telling him only what he wants to hear like the rest of his toadies probably are."

Jerek looked dismayed at her strong words, shaking his head. "I won't be the one to tell him that." He offered her his hand, wondering at how young she looked. She gave him a small smile and took his hand. He was going to remember this day as long as he lived, however long that was. "My thanks, my lady Brynhilde. If ever I have a daughter, I will name her for you." Her smile broadened, and he let her hand fall, feeling his face warm even in the cold. By Dibella, she was beautiful. He looked up at the sky and said, "Looks like a storm might be rolling in."

"Oh, it is, friend," she said with confidence, going back to her task. "It most certainly is." She heard the man clear his throat then start running. He had to be freezing with what little he was wearing, but he couldn't exactly wrap himself in bloody black Thalmor robes. When she had the glass cuirass off she heard Vilkas come near, and she sighed and ran her hand over the breastplate, watching what dim light there was make it gleam green, like a newly sprouted leaf. "Isn't it marvelous," she sighed.

"It is lovely," he admitted. "It will suit you well." He squatted down next to her, hesitating before reaching out to pet her hair. She sighed and looked at him, and he took the back of her neck in his hand and leaned close to kiss her. She responded warmly and he knew then that all was forgiven. He kept his hand there as he broke away and said in admiration, "What a sight you were." He snorted and added in a haughty tone, "'Remove yourself from my presence'. Ha." She had to laugh at that. The arrogance of the Thalmor had been appalling, though entertaining. "What did the fellow have to say before he took off?"

"He urged me to join Ulfric's noble cause. I told him to let Ulfric know I would be coming soon, and not to become his war hound. I told him I wouldn't help Ulfric kill his own people or become High King." Jarl Laila had been right about that, as naïve as she was about Maven and the Thieves Guild. Ulfric's motives weren't pure, and his 'Skyrim for the Nords' mentality could only mean hardship for the many other peoples who lived here if he came to power. She wondered how Ulfric was going to take her mixed blood. The thought of it was delicious.

"Good, let Stormcloak stew on that for a while." He stood and said, "What should we do with the bodies?"

"Do you think offering them to Talos would be too much?"

He barked out a laugh then caught himself. "Maybe. While I appreciate the irony of it, any other Thalmor that come along would find it a provocation."

"They were dragging away that poor man to be interrogated, which in their language means torture, simply because they thought he _might_ have knowledge of Talos worshippers. I'd say it couldn't get any worse."

Vilkas looked at her for a moment then said, "All right then." She smiled brightly at him, looking perfectly innocent and girlish, so pretty with the snowflakes clinging to her hair and eyelashes. He swallowed his pride and said, "I screwed up. Again. Back in Jorrvaskr. The situation, you…all of it."

"Yes, but it isn't the end of the world, beloved."

"I let everyone down."

"How so? You're not the one everyone keeps looking to, to solve all the problems. We all do as our natures dictate."

The odd answer left him speechless for a moment. He nearly turned away, to drag away the wizard, then he forced himself to say, "Kodlak made you Harbinger, didn't he."

"No, not yet, but he hinted at it, as did Vignar. I don't particularly want the job, frankly, or have time for it, but I want what's best for the Companions, just as I do for Skyrim. When we get back to Jorrvaskr we'll look through his things to see if he left his intentions anywhere. He was always writing in that journal of his."

"I…would abide by his wishes."

"We all will."

"Aye." He turned away to help Bryn deal with the bodies, feeling fresh grief as images of Kodlak's body and his courageous last moments flashed through his mind. Even sick as he was, he had rushed upstairs to defend his home and shield-siblings, and had managed to take out one of them before the end. He had died fighting, died gloriously. Vilkas was proud of him, even while grieving. And he was proud of Bryn for stepping in and calmly putting things in order when he couldn't. He just couldn't. He simply didn't have it in him to lead. Every time he thought he did, something happened that set him off. The position of Harbinger though wasn't one of leader; it was one of advisor, counselor, a calm and rational voice among the rabble. He certainly didn't fit the bill there, either. Out of all the Circle, only Bryn did now. If the Companions were to survive then she had to be Harbinger, and he would gladly follow her.

* * *

His gorge rising, Vilkas whispered hotly, "Unnecessary. This is so…so fucking unnecessary!" The room was meant for torture and nothing else. There was simply no reason to torture werewolves. The Thalmor at least had some thin veil of a reason for what they did-to gain information-but there was no point to this. All through Driftshade Refuge they had seen werewolf heads stuck on pikes, but this was the first werewolf body they had found. The bloody smell in here and the signs of torture on the poor soul were bringing his beast much too close to the surface.

"This is why Aela and Skjor did what they did. And me," she softly stated. "If the Silver Hand simply hunted werewolves that would be one thing, but this is sadistic. I'm sorry Skjor and Kodlak died, but this had to end."

"I know, but…"

"I have to wonder which would be better, dying in some random encounter, on a mercenary job that has nothing to do with you? Or dying to wipe out this scum, dying to save those you love, to defend your home?"

Vilkas swallowed the lump in his throat. "Aye, love." Her calm reason soothed the beast in him, made it sink back down, and he was grateful for it. He simply couldn't understand how she was always so damn calm and reasonable.

The end of their mission when it came was almost a disappointment to him. He wasn't sure if he was glad or not that it had been this easy. It wasn't as if he hadn't gotten his share of wounds, but Bryn had been there to heal them all. The fort lay silent around them, and the fragments of Wuuthrad were spread out on the table in front of them. Vilkas waited a moment, savoring it, then began gathering them up. Bryn asked, "Are they all there?"

"All but one, but that one was missing before." He wrapped them up with respect and moved to put them in his pack then thought better of it, handing them to Bryn, who accepted them wordlessly. "We should get back to Jorrvaskr and pay our respects to Kodlak's spirit, wherever it is going."

"Yes. I just want to check out that chest first."

"Ever the acquisitive one," he said jokingly.

"I don't believe in wasting opportunity."

"Sure."

She laughed and he followed her over to the chest. She looked longingly at the smithing equipment around her, wishing she had time to adjust the glass armor so she could wear it home. She had two sets now, so she'd adjust both to have a spare. Bryn opened the unlocked chest and pulled out a nice sum of gold, three silver ingots, and a necklace. A magical amulet. She bit her lip and slowly rose, staring at the Amulet of Mara in her hand, feeling a sudden swell of yearning in her. She didn't look up at Vilkas, afraid of what she would see on his face, but she sensed the tension in him. For a few seconds she entertained the fantasy that he would snatch the amulet out of her hand and put it around his neck, or around hers, and profess his undying love and devotion to her, tell her he couldn't live without her and beg her to be his wife. She waited, staring at it, feeling her hopes dying by the second, and when he shifted uncomfortably she resisted the urge to cry and murmured, "Farkas could use this. I'm…sure he doesn't have one yet."

He cleared his throat and made a sound of assent, and she carefully set the amulet in her pack then slung it on her back and headed for the door, trying not to cry. So that was how it was. It had been one thing to dance around the issue before, but now she'd had the damn amulet in her hand and he'd let the matter lie. She wished she had the courage to simply put the thing on to see what happened, or didn't happen. That would have made it painfully clear, though this was painful enough. At least this way she hadn't been outright rejected. It wasn't as if Vilkas didn't want to be with her. It just seemed he didn't want to be with her forever.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Thank you so much H for the kind review; I had no way to respond by PM so I will here. I'm glad I wasn't the only one who always wondered why poor Kodlak was lying there in his underwear while everyone else was armored. I had to find some way to make sense of that! I've been working on this story for a year now so it is definitely epic in length (while I would never in a million years consider it epic in content). Dawnguard and Dragonborn DLCs are both included in the story arc, which I currently have written out to well over two years from the point you're reading now. So very happy that people are enjoying this as it has been a labor of love.**

As they came through the gates a guard said to Vilkas and Bryn in a sympathetic tone, "Hey Companions, old Gray-Mane said to send you up to the Skyforge if you got in tonight. They've held off the funeral as long as they can."

"Aye, we'll be there," Vilkas said with a nod. "Thank you." He saw Bryn nod then head for Breezehome, and he let her go. Hardly a word had been spoken between them on the way home, and at this point he didn't know what to say. She was only dropping her things off, he was sure. No sense hauling it all up to Jorrvaskr. She wouldn't miss Kodlak's funeral. Surely she wouldn't.

When she showed up at the Skyforge a minute after him he was relieved, having worried about it the entire way there. Lydia had already been up here when he arrived, comforting Farkas, and held his hand silently. Vilkas hoped Bryn would come to him and hold his hand, but she stayed apart from the others near the top of the stairs, not meeting his eyes. She stared at the funeral pyre as if it were horrifying to her, and when they said the ceremonial words she didn't join in. She most likely didn't even know them. When Aela put a torch to the pyre Bryn shuddered slightly, her eyes huge. Maybe Altmer had different funerary practices. Most Nords buried their dead, or entombed them, but Eorlund had said Kodlak had requested this, and Kodlak wasn't the first Harbinger by far to feed the Skyforge's flames.

It was silent as they watched the body burn. After a few minutes Vilkas saw Eorlund go to Bryn and speak quietly to her. She nodded and handed over the wrapped fragments of Wuuthrad, and after another brief conversation she nodded again, turned away and left as Aela called for the Circle to retire to the Underforge. Vilkas sighed and let Bryn go, sure she had a reason for leaving, and indeed he saw her go into Jorrvaskr. Maybe Eorlund had asked for a favor. He supposed he would see soon enough. Eorlund was pumping the bellows and Kodlak's body was being quickly consumed, more quickly than Vilkas would have guessed possible. There was something poetic about his body becoming one with the Skyforge. Every piece of armor or weaponry forged there after this would have the essence of Kodlak in it.

He watched Lydia take her leave of Farkas as the funeral attendees filed away…Jarl Balgruuf, Proventus Avenicci, Danica Pure-Spring, Olfrid and Bergritte Battle-Born, and Fralia Gray-Mane among them. Many more of the townsfolk had watched from below and were also dispersing, the mood subdued. He sensed his brother come up to him, and he muttered, "It's the end of an age."

"Every age has to end," Farkas said, "and if you look at me all shocked you're going to get my fist."

"Fair enough."

His twin was still dirty from the road, and he asked him, "So it's all taken care of?"

"Aye, not a single one left. The Silver Hand will trouble us no more." He was completely exhausted; he and Bryn had been on the road for nearly two days with hardly any rest.

"I hope soon they won't have a reason to anyway. Bryn told you about the cure, right?" Vilkas nodded. "You're going to take it, right?" Vilkas hesitated, and Farkas narrowed his eyes and stated, "You'd better take it, Vilkas. We promised each other we would do it together."

"Of course I will, I…just need to think about it."

"What's to think about? No more having to hide what we are, no more dealing with too much sound and smell. Getting a good night's sleep every night…" He clenched his fists and said, "I swear Vilkas, if you ruin this for me I'll never forgive you. I want to get married. I can't do that when I'm like this." Vilkas looked at him with an expression of hurt. "You make everything hard, everything complicated. Don't think I didn't see how you and Bryn left, how you came back. You're still doing it!"

"We made up on the way there," he stated angrily. "Over the body of a dead Thalmor Justiciar, no less."

"Yeah, well you must've un-made up somewhere on the way back. What did you do?"

"Why does it have to be me?"

"It's always you!"

"Well this time it wasn't. She found an amulet of Mara in a chest, and she stood there with it in her hand waiting for _me_ to do something about it. She just stood there staring at it, then she put it in her pack and we left. She hardly said a word to me the entire way back, wouldn't even look me in the eye."

"So why didn't you do something about it?"

"Why didn't she!"

"What if she had? What would you have done? 'Cause I can imagine what she thought you would do. Nothing." Vilkas growled, his face burning, and Farkas asked, "Why won't you marry her, damn it? What the hell is your problem?"

"I have too many to name," he retorted.

"Tell me why you don't want to get married," his twin insisted. "You obviously aren't talking straight with her about it, so at least tell me."

"I told you before, I don't want to be a widower. She's going to face Alduin eventually, and what do you think is going to happen?"

"So you'll miss her less if you don't have a ring on your finger? That makes no goddamn sense!"

Eorlund barked at them, "Hey you two, take it somewhere else. This isn't the place or the time."

"Sorry sir," the twins murmured. He shook his head at them and turned back to his forge, where Kodlak's bones glowed bright orange-red at the heart of the fire. They stared at it for a moment before Farkas took Vilkas' arm and led him away.

* * *

_Aela is too solitary, Vilkas too fiery, and Farkas too kind-hearted. Only Brynhilde stands as a true warrior who can keep a still mind amidst these burning hearts._

Bryn finished Kodlak's last entry and closed the journal before any of her tears fell on the pages. She fastened it and slipped it into the front of her armor, the simple will folded inside it, then she picked up the last piece of Wuuthrad to take up to Eorlund. It had been eerie to enter Jorrvaskr after the funeral and see it completely empty, but the others were back now, Vignar speaking to Tilma about preparations for Kodlak's memorial feast. Bryn's heart wasn't in it, but these rituals were needed. She smiled briefly at them as she passed and Vignar gave her a wink, though his expression was still grieved.

Eorlund was alone at the Skyforge, still stoking the fire, and Bryn went to him, trying not to look at Kodlak's remains, now nothing more than a glowing skeleton. She had fought skeletons before and had always wondered who they had been in life, and seeing Kodlak like this now was more horrifying than his dead body had been.

The smith glanced over at her and noticed her expression. "One would think you're used to death by now, lass," he stated.

"I've never lost someone I loved before," she replied. "My parents died when I was a baby, and my Altmer kin were still alive when I left Cyrodiil." He grunted in acknowledgment. She handed him the last fragment, the pointed top piece.

"Thank you. Your shield-siblings have withdrawn to the Underforge. I think they're waiting for you." Bryn nodded. He waited and said, "Well, get a move on, girl, I haven't got all day."

Bryn opened her mouth to ask what he was doing but he shooed her away, getting irritated, so she did the wise thing and left. If he was just going to mount the pieces again he would have been heading for Jorrvaskr, but maybe he wanted to stay with Kodlak's remains until they were fully consumed.

When she entered the Underforge she could hear the sounds of arguing, and it made her sigh with exhaustion. All she wanted was a bath and sleep, not to have to mediate disputes. If this was what being Harbinger was all about she wanted no part of it. Not that she did anyway.

She stayed out of the argument, which was mostly between Vilkas and Aela, with Farkas throwing in occasional comments in support of his brother. The three seemed to ignore her for the most part, and that was fine. They were speaking of things of which she had little knowledge. It reinforced to her that Aela would never accept a cure. The child of two werewolves, she was moon-born indeed. Aela's blood was still dried onto the font, a crust of reddish-brown, and Bryn found it revolting. This entire evening had been morbid. It was all she could do to stand there and listen to the others bickering without simply turning around and walking away. Bryn's attention perked a bit more when Vilkas mentioned the tomb of Ysgramor and a possible way to still cure Kodlak, which was news to her, but then Vilkas knew things about the history of the Companions that they had never touched on yet. There was simply so much there that he couldn't impart it all. If only his temperament were different, he would have made a much better Harbinger than she ever could. He had practically been born to it.

Vilkas stated, "Kodlak used to speak of a way to cleanse his soul, even in death. You know the legends of the Tomb of Ysgramor."

Aela replied, "Yes, 'There the souls of the Harbingers will heed the call of northern steel'. But we can't even enter the tomb without Wuuthrad, and it's in pieces, like it has been for a thousand years."

The sound of the outer door opening caught the attention of all four, and they turned to see Eorlund enter the Underforge. The old smith said gravely, "And dragons were just stories. And the Elves once ruled Skyrim."

Vilkas stared at Eorlund, trying to make out what was on his back, then he asked in shock, "Is that… Did you repair the blade?" It didn't seem possible. Bryn had delivered the fragments to him not half an hour ago.

"Just because something is, doesn't mean it must be. The blade is a weapon, a tool. Tools are meant to be broken, and repaired. This is the first time I've had all the pieces, thanks to our Shield-Sister here." He pulled Wuuthrad off his back and moved into the light, hearing sharp intakes of breath from the Circle. "Legend says, 'The flames of a hero can reforge the shattered.' The flames of Kodlak have fueled the rebirth of Wuuthrad. And now it will take you to meet him once more. The rest of you, prepare to journey to the Tomb of Ysgramor in the morning. For Kodlak." He turned to Bryn and held out the battleaxe to her. "As the one who bore the fragments, I think you should be the one to carry Wuuthrad into battle."

"Thank you, Master Smith," she murmured, taking it from him. "For everything." Of course she had no intention at all of fighting with the thing, which had to weigh nearly thirty pounds. She was completely unsuited to the weapon, having trained only a little in two-handed weapons.

"Aye lass. I'll take my leave." He knew damn well the girl was going to be the next Harbinger. Anyone with eyes in their head could see that.

When the smith was gone, Bryn stood staring at the axe in her hand, wondering how on earth she was going to carry the thing all the way up to Ysgramor's Tomb. She turned to look at the others and they waited for her to say something, and when she looked directly at Vilkas he bit his lip and nearly looked away, but didn't. She held the axe out to him and he stared at it with something like lust, then he shook his head and folded his arms.

"No, it is yours," he stated.

"You know I can't use this," she protested. "I can't fight with two-handed weapons. Besides, this has hung on Jorrvaskr's wall for how long, with you and Farkas growing up under it. One of you should carry it, fight with it. I can't."

Vilkas nearly said something snide about her being the new Harbinger and sucking it up and dealing with it, but for once a tiny voice of common sense stopped him. Bryn wasn't offering it to him out of pity or charity. She truly couldn't use the weapon, and it would be an impediment to her on the road up to the Tomb. He wasn't that much of an ass that he would do that to her. He finally nodded, and she let out a breath of relief and held it out to him.

Vilkas took the axe reverently, setting the haft on the ground to run his free hand over the flat of the blade. "Who would have thought this day would come," he breathed in awe. "Wuuthrad."

"Never thought I'd see the day," Farkas agreed, coming over to look at the weapon. He also used a two-handed sword, and when Vilkas handed it to him he hefted it then backed up to take a few swings, making Aela gasp.

"You aren't testing a new blade at the blacksmith's, ice brain," she scolded.

"I'm doing it with respect," Farkas stated.

"Fine, but I'm not about to watch. We have preparations to make and a feast to attend."

Vilkas took the axe back and said, "Aye, we leave in the morning, but tonight we celebrate Kodlak." Kodlak, whose funeral pyre had made the impossible possible. As had Bryn. He turned to say something to her but she was already on her way out, Aela hurrying to catch up to her, and the Huntress put her arm through the younger woman's as they exited the Underforge.

The stone door slid shut, and Farkas continued their prior argument, saying, "You're still doing it, damn it."

"Not again," Vilkas groaned, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

"She's going to leave you if you keep it up," he stated angrily. "You told me months ago that you were going to screw everything up, that you didn't know what you were doing, and I'm telling you right now that she's going to leave you, Vilkas. Everything was okay between you until she took the beastblood, and you've let it all go to hell since then. Have you even slept with her since then?"

"It hasn't been that long!"

Farkas shook his head at him. "Whatever. Don't come crying to me later when she's washed her hands of you. I'm trying to help, damn it." He turned away, saying, "She'd be better off with Aela than you. At least Aela understands loyalty."

"I don't deserve this," Vilkas growled, following him.

"You're causing my sister pain, for no good reason. If Bryn dies, you're going to hurt as much as her lover as you would her husband, and why the hell would she die anyway? She could probably take you or me in a fight these days."

"Alduin is… It's Alduin, you dummy!" He danced back as Farkas spun and took a swing at him, narrowly missing his jaw. His twin advanced on him and he held up his hand and hastily said, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"You will be," Farkas warned.

"All right!"

They fell silent as they left the Underforge, and when they entered the mead hall Bryn was nowhere to be seen. The younglings and Vignar quickly converged on Vilkas, eager to see Wuuthrad whole, and he held it out at arm's length to let them get a good look at it and touch it, feeling a swell of pride that he knew was unwarranted. Bryn could have gotten the fragments herself, though she would've taken a good deal of damage in the process, but she hadn't. Vilkas had been there and he had fought honestly. It made him uncomfortable that his motive had been vengeance, something Kodlak didn't care for, but it had gotten the job done.

He left the axe with his brother then went downstairs to bathe and change. Bryn wasn't there either, so she must have gone back to Breezehome. By time he returned upstairs the feast was started, and not long after he took his usual seat Bryn came through the front doors. She was wearing her finest dress with the fur-trimmed cloak, and when those gathered called "Hail, Shield-Sister!" she smiled sadly and nodded. Her eyes scanned the tables, and when they lit on him she stared at him, waiting, and when he took too long to respond her expression fell and she turned away. Vilkas shoved his chair back and went after her, feeling a twinge of panic that Farkas might be right, that one too many of his slips would finally push her over the edge. He caught her hand and stopped her. She didn't pull away but didn't meet his eyes either. "Come sit by me?" he quietly asked.

Relieved, Bryn looked up at him and saw real fear in his eyes, could feel the slightest trembling in his hand. She sighed and twined her fingers in his. "Of course," she replied, feeling him relax as he blinked rapidly. "I'll be there in just a second. I wanted to talk to Farkas first."

"Of course." He lifted her hand and kissed it, not caring who saw, then let her go to return to his seat. He watched her go to his brother and sit by him, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and Farkas grinned back at her, his expression warm. Vilkas had to swallow a lump of mixed hurt and regret as he watched them together; yes, Bryn would have been better off with Farkas. Any woman would be. Bryn leaned against Farkas' shoulder and whispered in his ear, then she took something out of her belt pouch and pressed it into his hand, closing his fingers over it. Farkas looked down at it, peeking inside the little package, then he looked at Bryn in alarm then over at Vilkas. With a sudden sinking feeling Vilkas knew what it was: the Amulet of Mara. Farkas stared at Vilkas, who stared back, then his twin tore his eyes away and said something to Bryn, who shook her head and rose from her seat. She ran her fingers through Farkas' hair as he gazed up at her, and Vilkas was certain he asked her 'Are you sure?' She nodded and walked away. Farkas' eyes went back to Vilkas, and instead of glaring back Vilkas let his gaze fall. He wasn't sure whether to be wounded or relieved that Bryn had given the amulet away. It hurt though that she had made sure that he saw her do it. As if she were making him very aware that she knew he would never marry her.

Bryn took a seat next to Vilkas, and as she expected he said nothing, instead pouring her a mug of mead. She sipped at it, feeling soothing coolness spread through her. It was tempting to get roaring drunk, the way she had that first night at Jorrvaskr after being accepted into the Companions. That wasn't particularly dignified though, and of course the Dragonborn and future Harbinger had to be dignified. Always dignified.

Vilkas thoughtfully filled her plate with venison and roasted vegetables, and she sighed and finally looked up at him. He met her eyes and gave her a hint of a smile, and she slid her hand onto his leg and rubbed it gently. He let out a breath and smiled more fully at her, and it was so beautiful that it was impossible to contemplate not being with him, marriage or no marriage.

Vignar cleared his throat and stood, ringing a spoon on his goblet. The mead hall fell silent. He raised his cup and called out, "To Kodlak!"

"_To Kodlak!_" they all shouted, then took a drink in his honor.

"I first joined the Companions some sixty-odd years ago, when I was little more than a boy."

"Here we go," Vilkas muttered, and Bryn shushed him softly, though she was trying not to smile. Vilkas had heard every story Vignar had to tell over the last nearly thirty years, but he listened respectfully now as the elder related only those that had to do with Kodlak, and he was surprised to find that there were some he had never heard before. They were stories of bravery, of honor. Vignar hadn't met Kodlak until the Revered returned to Jorrvaskr after the Great War, when Askar had been Harbinger and Kodlak still a hale young man in his thirties, trying to herd around two wild young boys who had been entrusted to his care.

Farkas stood next, saying, "I'm not good at telling stories, but I have a few." His brought more laughter than Vignar's, most of them involving him and Vilkas getting in some kind of trouble as youngsters, all the way up until nearly their twenties.

The ritual moved around the table, the mood alternately light-hearted and somber. Bryn found it deeply touching, if odd; she had no experience at all with this sort of thing. When it finally reached her the room went quiet again, and when Vilkas nudged her she cleared her throat and stood. Everyone stared at her expectantly, respectfully. She finally said, "I wish I had known Kodlak longer, and better. I wish that I'd had the benefit of his wisdom the way you all have, for as long as you all have. I'm only here today because Kodlak took a chance on me, because he saw something in me I couldn't yet see in myself." The dream had been responsible for that, but no one here needed to know that; she'd share it with the Circle, later, but the rest didn't need to know about it. "I have no stories to tell of Kodlak, only memories of him, the impressions he left on me. I remember best his kindness, the soul behind his eyes. In his presence I always felt safe, as I would imagine a child does with a beloved grandfather. I loved the sound of his voice. I…parted well from him. I only wish that I had been here, when… Well." She took a folded piece of paper from her belt pouch and held it up. "Kodlak willed a little bit of something to everyone here. I'll bring those things by the first opportunity I get." She lifted her mug. "To Kodlak."

"To Kodlak!"

As Bryn sank into her seat, Vilkas rose, his heart aching. He stared at the central fire and began with difficulty, "Kodlak was the father of my heart. Mara only knows who actually was my, _our_, father, but when I think father, my mind's eye sees Kodlak."

_Oh Kodlak_, Bryn thought with sorrow as she listened to Vilkas' moving tribute to the man. He meant so much to so many people, but he had meant the most to Vilkas. He seemed to be doing fine, considering. She hoped he continued to do so. His behavior lately had been deeply troubling. Granted, he was under a lot of stress, but such times tended to bring out one's true character. He was a good man though, she knew that. Maybe it really was only the beast that was influencing him so heavily. Kodlak had made a point of that: the beastblood tainted not only the body but the spirit. It affected Vilkas more strongly than the others. She was glad that an end to that was near. She wanted to know the real Vilkas, the honorable, caring, passionate man she loved so dearly, without the beast in the way.

"To Kodlak!"

She was startled out of her thoughts by the toast, and she took a drink of mead as Vilkas returned to his seat. The memorials done, everyone began talking quietly and eating. She placed her hand on Vilkas' leg again and gave it a gentle squeeze, and he put his own hand over it.

"He would have liked this," Vilkas said softly. Kodlak hadn't been a boisterous man, even in his youth.

"I think so."

"I didn't know he left a will."

"I found it in his side table, when Eorlund sent me for the final piece of Wuuthrad."

"Final piece! So that's where it's been all these years. I never guessed. His bedroom was always completely off limits to everyone, always. Even as young boys Farkas and I never dared go in there, when it was Askar's."

"It wasn't comfortable going in there," she admitted. "I felt like an intruder."

"Did you find his journal?"

"Yes."

"So…"

"Yes." He took in a deep breath then slowly let it out and nodded. He seemed relieved, which relieved her in turn. "Do you want to read it?"

He quickly shook his head. "No, not yet. I'm…not ready."

"There was nothing terrible in there, dearest."

"Still…"

"All right."

"Stay here tonight, with me?"

"Yes. I told Lydia I might."

"Might." She said nothing, taking a bite of bread. "I…don't blame you for not trusting me," he muttered. "I can't even trust myself."

"You've been having trouble lately. I hope to remove the source of that trouble within the next few days." He didn't answer, and when she looked up at him he was staring at the fire. She squeezed his hand, harder than she intended when he looked sharply at her. She whispered pleadingly to him, "Please honey, promise me you'll take the cure!"

"Of course I will." Bryn relaxed, and he vowed to make himself do it, no matter how hard it was. He knew it was going to be one of the most difficult things he had ever done. No matter how he hated the beastblood, it was part of him. It had been part of him so long that he wasn't sure who he was without it, and that was a frightening prospect. If he didn't rid himself of it though, he would never know. Bryn would never forgive him, and worst of all neither would his brother. Farkas had always followed Vilkas' lead. If he didn't cure himself his brother would feel compelled not to either, and there was no way he could deny his twin a fresh lease on life, with a wife and children. Now that Farkas had the amulet it would feel even more urgent to him.

Later that evening the festivities were getting more rambunctious, and Farkas excused himself to go see Lydia, taking his gear with him, telling the others to meet him there in the morning. Aela excused herself as well, saying they needed to get an early start. She had been quiet and subdued most of the night, picking at her food, no doubt deeply missing Skjor.

"Let's go," Vilkas murmured to Bryn, and she nodded and took his hand. He led her downstairs, their departure unnoticed. They walked hand in hand down the hall, hearing Aela shuffling around in her room, her door open, no doubt preparing for tomorrow. He was going to turn down his hall when Bryn tugged on his hand, pulling him towards Kodlak's quarters. He balked, shaking his head. "No, it's too soon."

"Please, I just want to show you something," she pleaded. He sighed and relented. She felt his fingers tighten on hers as they opened the outer doors. She clucked her tongue and said, "These need to be left open. We can't just shut it all away." Vilkas stayed silent but didn't protest. When she went to open the bedroom door he pulled on her again, and she grabbed his arm and tugged him along like a small child.

"Fine, fine," he said in aggravation. "What the hell could possibly be so… What on Nirn is that?"

"I don't know. Odd, isn't it?" She let go of his hand to pick up the bright pink jewel that turned slowly on some invisible axis above a bed of green velvet. "This is what he left to me. I have no idea what it is, or what to do with it." She actually already had a couple of them, shut away in a chest in Breezehome. She had seen quite a few odd things in her travels but the jewels were rather unsettling. She knew that the Thieves Guild might have a lead on them, but she'd be damned if she got mixed up with that lot. That Brynjolf could sweet-talk her all he liked; she wasn't falling for it.

"I've never seen its like." She handed it to him and he held it up. He held the box by the tips of his fingers, uneasy about the magic holding it aloft. He handed it back to her, and she put it back on the shelf. "Is that what you wanted to show me?"

"Well, yes, but not everything." She went to a large chest against one wall and pulled out a key, hearing a grumble from Vilkas. She smiled at him over her shoulder. "Better than picking the lock."

"I suppose." She lifted the lid and motioned him over. He looked down into the chest, feeling a pang of grief at the sight of Kodlak's wolf armor. Vilkas had never seen him wear anything else; he had already been part of the Circle when the twins came along. Then his eyes lit on the black gleam next to it. "Ah, look at that," he said in admiration. He hesitated then reached in and picked up the cuirass. He held it up, saying to Bryn, "Now _that_ is armor. The only thing stronger is Daedric, and you wouldn't catch me dead in that cursed stuff. This though…_this_ is the armor of a true hero. I had no idea Kodlak owned any. It must be from his early days." He admired it a bit longer then laid it back in the chest. He had never seen armor quite like it; the style was slightly different from Nord ebony, more Cyrodiilic in design, with gold swirls dancing across the surface. Gorgeous.

"It's yours." Vilkas looked at her sharply, and she repeated, "It's yours. Kodlak wanted you to have it."

He shook his head vehemently. "No. I can't. Absolutely not."

"It was what he wanted." She took out the folded piece of paper and handed it to him. He took it from her and opened it. It was dated from a few days ago. The day Bryn had left Whiterun for Glenmoril Coven. "You were first in his thoughts. He must have started this right after I left. He wanted you to have the armor of his youth, before he became a werewolf. There's meaning in that, Vilkas. Look at the very bottom."

He scanned the rest of the list, noting that Kodlak had left his warhammer to Farkas, and at the bottom were directions to Eorlund to melt down the wolf armor, all the sets that he was given, and let the making of it die with the smith. He folded the paper and handed it back, shaking his head. "I'm not worthy of it."

"So be worthy."

He stared at her painfully, then whispered, "He told me that. When I first came to him about us, to tell him what I had done in that crypt. He told me to be worthy of you. And I haven't been. Gods know I haven't been." He wasn't sure how he could ever be. The stronger and more skilled Bryn became, the less worthy he felt. Bryn didn't protest his statement, either, though she seemed confused by it more than anything. He closed the lid. "No. I will not wear it. Not yet. I would feel like a fraud."

"All right, beloved." He took her hand and led her out of the room, closing the door, though he left the outer ones open. Something crashed upstairs and there was the sound of Torvar's guffaws and Ria's shriek of laughter, making her laugh. "I'm glad we left when we did."

"As long as they don't burn the place down, let them have their fun. Vignar is no doubt up there with them, matching them mug for mug. He'll keep an eye on things, if he doesn't fall asleep at the table first." He pulled her into his room then pressed her against the door, saying huskily, "Be glad for the noise. It will cover your screams." Bryn bit her lip and giggled, and the girlishness of it made him harden even quicker. He kissed along her ear, murmuring, "You think I'm joking, but I assure you I am not." He felt her nose along his neck, then he gasped as she pulled his hips against her at the same time she nipped him. He held still, beginning to ache, as her nose moved to his ear, and she nibbled at the lobe, sending goose bumps over his skin.

"Take me," she breathed in his ear, "and don't be nice about it."

A dizzying surge of lust went through him, and he growled and spun her around to face the door. He pinned her hands there and hissed, "Don't. Move." He shoved up her dress and made a choked sound of need when there was nothing there to impede his progress. He kicked her feet apart, undid his pants then began to caress her between, hearing her moan. When she was wet enough he entered her roughly, making her cry out, giving her exactly what she wanted, and when he drew close he stopped, leaning against her back as he put one hand over hers. The other reached down and began firmly rubbing her, making her press back against him as she panted. He murmured in her ear, "You're mine, aren't you."

"Oh yes," she breathed. He laced his fingers with hers and she held on tightly as his touch made a tingling, almost burning pleasure build in her.

"Tell me you'll never leave me."

She panted, "Never, I…would never—" Vilkas began moving slowly inside her and it pushed her over the edge. He grabbed her hips and took her so roughly it almost hurt, but she had asked for it, and it felt too good to protest. He lapped and bit at her neck as he leaned against her then wrapped his arms tightly around her, finishing with his breath hot in her ear.

Bryn let her hands fall as he pulled out of her, but he didn't let go, if anything holding her more tightly. It was no doubt making a mess of her dress, but that could be taken care of easily enough with a washcloth, enough to get her home in the morning. She laid her arms over his and he rocked her slightly, rubbing his head against hers as their breathing slowed. He was usually talkative afterward but this time he was silent. It continued for so long that she began to grow uneasy, and when he slowed to a standstill she began to truly worry, but before she could ask what was wrong she felt him began to tremble. When she tried to turn around to look at him his arms tightened further, to the point where she could hardly breathe. "Vilkas!" she whispered. He didn't answer, and she pried his arms off and turned around. He avoided her eyes, looking past her at the door, but his own eyes were wet, haunted looking. She didn't ask what was wrong, afraid to sound patronizing. "Come on," she murmured, taking his arm and leading him to the bed.

She began undressing him, and after a moment he sniffed and took over, not looking at her. She took her own clothes off and when directed slid in first, then he blew out the lanterns and got in after her. She laid there in the dark for nearly a minute, feeling him shiver every so often, wondering what on earth was wrong with him, then he rolled over with a whimpering sound and moved up against her, sliding down to lay his head on her chest. She put her arms around him and brought up one hand to run her fingers through his hair. She softly stated, "I love you, Vilkas." She felt him nod, silent. His stubble was pricking her skin but she ignored the discomfort.

When he fell asleep that way a few minutes later she sighed and resigned herself to being uncomfortable, so exhausted that her body was screaming for sleep. She hoped that it was only grief over Kodlak's death that had made him act odd. She had no idea if he had actually wept over the old man's death yet, other than that solitary tear on the road the other day. Maybe Nords didn't weep over their dead. She supposed she hadn't really cried much either, but then she hadn't known Kodlak the way the others had, or loved him the way Vilkas did. It had to hurt terribly for him to lose the man he had taken to heart as a father, when he had lost his own parents as a tiny child, and then Jergen had left—

Bryn felt a pang of sorrow, hearing Vilkas' words in her ear earlier: 'Tell me you'll never leave me.' Those weren't exactly the words one whispered to a lover during sex, and it hadn't really registered with her at the time. She wondered if he really feared that, that she would leave him too. Skjor was dead, Kodlak was dead, Jergen had left and probably had died somewhere, his parents had most likely been murdered in front of him and Farkas. And then there was Farkas, wanting to marry, which meant he would leave Jorrvaskr and make a home with Lydia. Farkas had been across the hall from Vilkas for the last ten years, after Arnbjorn's banishment had freed up a room, and the twins had always roomed together before that. They had always been inseparable. Bryn was often away from Whiterun, sometimes for a month or two at a time; no wonder he feared her leaving him altogether, especially when his behavior had been so unbearable lately.

She hadn't realized she had fallen asleep until he twitched violently, waking her with a gasp, and when he whimpered she touched his bare shoulder gently to wake him from his nightmare.

"Leave my brother alone," he mumbled.

Bryn's breath caught, and she shook him lightly to wake him up, but he only muttered something else unintelligible and rolled over and fell back asleep. She rolled onto her side, putting her arm over him, her heart aching that he still dreamt of the cave, thirty-five years later. Even though it happened long before she was born, it was still terrifying to think of how close Farkas had come to dying, and how the thin thread of chance had led Jergen to that cave. It was sad that Vilkas still resented Jergen for leaving, when it had to have been hard for a single man to take in two traumatized toddlers and try to raise them himself, when by all rights he could have dropped them off at Honorhall Orphanage and gone his own way. The thought of two frightened, emotionally damaged little boys being left in that hellish place in Grelod's care was horrifying. In fact Bryn thought she might pay the woman a little late-night visit sometime soon to convince her to lay off the children. That Dark Brotherhood gear she'd picked up would come in quite handy for that. She wouldn't lay a hand on the woman—she wasn't a murderer—but she would impress on her quite strongly that her days of mistreating the children were over. She would pass through Riften on her way up to Eastmarch, once things were all squared away here at Jorrvaskr. Maybe she would take Iona with her for a bit and see how she worked out.

Feeling content with that settled in her mind, Bryn quickly fell back asleep.

* * *

The grinding of stone doors in the nearby walls made the twins tense and go for their weapons, and when they saw Bryn emerge from one they relaxed. She looked thoughtful, giving them only a brief smile, the sack of heads slung over her shoulder, not as full as before. They looked at each other then Farkas asked with worry, "Where's Aela?"

"Down in the tomb," she answered, staying in the doorway. "Communing, she says." She took a deep breath and let it out again then smiled more fully at them. "Kodlak is at peace and on his way to Sovngarde."

"Thank Shor!" Vilkas said in a shaking voice.

Farkas went to Bryn with a broad grin as he said, "Vilkas says you're the new Kodlak. Does that mean what I think it does?"

"Yes, it looks that way. Kodlak told me to lead the Companions from here, in Aela's hearing," she said in resignation. She had hoped that at the very last moment Kodlak would surprise her and say that Vilkas was the new Harbinger, or Vignar, anyone but her. Aela had been shocked as well, though accepting. Relieved even. She'd teased her a bit about how far she had come from the whelp who had been begging to join not that long ago, and Bryn had been glad she was able to tease. She still wasn't quite herself, and when they had fought the spiders and Bryn had started removing their venom sacs she had started gagging and had to turn away. She had when she had seen Bryn take the heads out of the sack too.

"So everything was good?"

She gripped his upper arms and said happily, "Very good, big bear. The wolf spirit left his body and Aela and I destroyed it. He was so happy, Farkas. He really was. Tsun will accept him in Shor's Hall with open arms, as a true Nord hero. I bet that right now he's hoisting a mug with Ysgramor himself."

"That's…aw hell, that's really great," he said in a rough voice, his eyes shining. "I was worried… Well, I was just worried."

"I know, me too, but when we approached the Flame of the Harbinger there he was, warming his hands. He said other Harbingers were there as well, evading Hircine, but I couldn't see them. After he was cured, he said something about rousing the other heroes in Sovngarde to the Harrowing of the Hunting Grounds, to liberate any others who wanted free of Hircine."

Farkas nodded, then he put his hands on her shoulders and leaned close, sniffing her hair deeply. He stood back, still holding her, and smiled. "Smells like you're free too, eh?"

She patted his cheek and said, "Yes, I took care of that the second Kodlak faded away."

"Good." He turned to look at his brother, who was still standing next to Ysgramor's statue, glaring at Bryn with a wounded expression. "Hey, ready to—"

"You cured yourself?" Vilkas said in dismay. "Just like that?"

Confused, she replied, "What other way should I have done it? Maybe I should have waited for you two so we could do it all together. I'm sorry, I didn't think, I was so eager to have it gone. I was half afraid that if I didn't do it then I wouldn't get the chance later." Vilkas stepped down from the dais, his hands in his hair, and started pacing. It was unsettling, on top of his refusal earlier to go through the tomb with them and fight the ancient Companions. He had been so good on the way up though. He had carried Wuuthrad proudly, and his expression had shone when he'd placed the axe in the statue's hands, as if he were handing it over to the real Ysgramor himself. She glanced at Farkas and he was staring at his brother with a fierce expression, as if he were one second away from tackling him.

Farkas said in a warning tone, "Come on, Vilkas. We're going down and getting cured. Right now." His twin ignored him, pacing like a caged sabre cat. "You promised, damn it. You promised both of us. You promised Kodlak."

Bryn's eyes widened in shock as she said to Vilkas, "Tell me you aren't refusing the cure!"

Vilkas muttered, "I just…I need to think about it."

Farkas said, "Oh no you don't. No thinking. Just do it. Now. Right damn now." Vilkas shook his head, and Farkas nearly launched himself at his brother to start pummeling him, but the sacredness of the place stopped him.

"Please Vilkas honey," Bryn begged. "Go downstairs. Start there. Look at the tomb and let it sink in. I know this is hard—"

"Like hell you do!" he retorted. "How the hell could you know? What, two, three whole weeks you had beastblood, and even then you might as well not have for all it affected you!"

"Is that my fault? I didn't suffer enough for you, is that it?"

Farkas shook his head and said, "No. No no no. We aren't going there. No fighting or being mean to each other."

"You're right," she sighed. "I'm sorry." She steeled herself for a nasty reaction and went to Vilkas, but when she tried to stop his pacing he growled and shrugged her off.

Farkas stated in a hurt, angry tone, "I can't get married until I get cured. I won't get cured unless you do first."

"Stop pressuring me! Both of you!" Vilkas shouted.

"What pressure?" Bryn asked in disbelief. "You told me from the day we became a couple what a curse this was, how you couldn't wait to get rid of it, how afraid you were of Hircine dragging you away to his Hunting Grounds, what a little fool I was to take on the beastblood, and now you have the chance to get rid of it and you're hemming and hawing about it? What are you afraid of!"

"I'm afraid of nothing, I just don't appreciate ultimatums!"

Bryn turned away to head out the opposite door, feeling cold air blowing down from above. She was so angry right now she could use the chill, and she had noticed when they'd approached that there was a small mountain above the tomb, so this doorway must go somewhere interesting. "Well how is this for an ultimatum? You and I are done until you get cured."

Farkas sighed and shook his head while Vilkas stared after Bryn's retreating back with his mouth hanging open. Farkas said, "Come on Bryn, don't be like that. It isn't helping."

"I'm sick of us all being held hostage to his tantrums," she retorted. "It was one thing when he couldn't help it, but he has the chance to get cured _right now_ and he's refusing to do it. He's choosing to keep you from getting married, for Mara's sake!"

"I can wait until he's ready."

"Yes, well that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to wait at the top of this mountain for one hour, with the heads. If he doesn't come to get me within that hour, I'm burying the heads up there in the snow and I'm leaving for home."

As Bryn turned away Vilkas snarled at her, "I knew it. I knew you would leave me. Your promises mean nothing!"

"As do yours, apparently, and besides, I'm not leaving you. I'm putting space between us until you come to your senses, that's all."

"Bullshit! You're a fucking liar!"

Bryn ignored him and continued up the tunnel, feeling tiny pellets of snow strike her face. The weather up here was about the coldest she had ever felt, too much even for a Nord to tolerate for long in the open. She heard Farkas growl something furiously and Vilkas' bitter reply down below. She ignored it, meaning exactly what she said. She couldn't possibly fathom what her beloved's issue was this time, other than what she had said: fear. If he couldn't master it then she was staying away from him until he did.

"Ah ha," she murmured as she reached the top, seeing a word wall awaiting her there. She walked up to it and let the word flow into her, the sensation no longer stunning her as it once had. "_Raan_," she murmured, closing her eyes to let the word roll around her mind before settling into her understanding. This had a bestial feel to it, something to do with animals. She would have to try it on one of the many horkers they had avoided on their way here and see what it did.

Bryn took her time poking around the top of the mountain, seeing if there was anything else worthwhile up there, and to her delight found a rare vein of gold ore. She took out her pick and started chipping away at it. It was a mindless task that kept her busy, and warm, while she waited. She really wasn't sure what Vilkas would choose. She truly couldn't be certain, and again she wondered what on earth his motivation was this time. It was partly fear, certainly. Fear seemed to motivate much of his behavior, especially when it came to her. What he feared about the cure though was anyone's guess.

The weather was so poor that Bryn had trouble telling when an hour had passed, but she finally got so cold after finishing her mining that she decided to pack up and go back downstairs to take her leave. She was burying the heads to the side of the word wall when she heard the crunch of footsteps in the snow behind her. She glanced up and saw Aela, not either of the people she had been expecting. She rolled her eyes and went back to her task, saying, "Let me guess, he stormed off in a huff and is on his way home, with his brother holding his hand the entire way."

"No, they're both down in the tomb," Aela stated. She shivered and pulled her fur cloak more closely around her. "Well, no doubt that you're a true Nord. You've been out here an hour and a half, and I've been out here five minutes and I'm freezing."

"Ah, I hadn't realized it had been so long. I was mining."

"Mining."

"Yes. Gold."

"All right." Gods, the girl was odd. Pretty though, with the snow swirling around her pale face and hair. Aela nodded with her chin towards the word wall. "I've never run across one of these before. What word did you find?"

"_Raan_. It feels like it has some connection to animals. I'm going to try it on the horkers."

Aela snorted a laugh. "Don't you think you should try it on something a bit more manageable first? Like a rabbit? Just in case?"

Bryn laughed gaily at that. "You're right. Better safe than sorry." She stood up, the heads buried, and said, "All right, then. Let's get home."

The huntress frowned, asking, "What about the heads?"

"I can't take them home. They'll spoil."

Aela gagged a bit at that then clarified, "No, aren't you going to take them down to the twins?" Bryn stared at her. "For the cure. They're waiting there for the cure."

"Really. Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have climbed my ass up here for fun," she growled. Bryn's eyebrows rose then she nodded and bent down to dig the heads back out. Aela shuddered as Bryn pulled out two, each wrapped in layers of linen and leather, but still loathsome and smelly, and left the last one there. It would never be needed. Bryn walked past her with the heads and the scent hit her like a slap in the face, making her bend over and vomit, losing the remains of the light lunch they had eaten a few hours ago. Bryn dropped the heads and hurried to her, rubbing her back, and as she wiped her eyes and coughed Bryn got out some water for her to drink. She nodded her thanks and washed her mouth out and spit then took a drink, and when she handed back the canteen she blurted out, "I think I'm pregnant."

"Oh Aela," Bryn breathed. Aela looked down at her hands, her jaw clenched, and Bryn moved close to her, putting her hands on her shoulders. The Huntress looked up at her with mixed grief and hope in her pale green eyes. "So the nausea…"

"I'm two weeks late."

"Oh Aela," she repeated brokenly, tears rising in her eyes. Aela smiled hesitantly at her and brought her hands up to grasp Bryn's arms. "He…he would have been so happy. I wonder what it will be?"

"The women of my line bear only daughters. I'm going to name her Skjorta, after her father."

"She'll be a fine, strong girl."

She hesitated then said, "I…I thought I would like to raise her at Jorrvaskr, Harbinger. If that's all right." She wasn't going to send her child off somewhere to be raised, away from her. Not that she had anywhere she could send her.

"Oh, stop that," Bryn scolded, putting an arm around her and kissing her cheek. "Of course she'll be raised at Jorrvaskr. And my god, don't call me Harbinger." She paused, a thought suddenly striking her. "This won't…well, the beastblood. Will it affect her?"

"Not at all. Pa told me so, after I got my first menses and began moving into womanhood. The Blood doesn't touch the child, and the womb protects it during the change. The pregnancy should proceed normally, but…I'd like to wait, to tell anyone else. Until I'm past my first trimester."

"Of course, whatever you want."

Aela smiled sadly at her and said, "You know, I'm going to kick Vilkas' ass if he doesn't make things right with you. It wouldn't be the first time I've thrashed him, or even the second."

"Really! I do remember him telling me that he'd learned long ago to not cross you. And Farkas said you scared him."

"Ha!" Aela barked out a laugh. "Let's just say that when I first came to Jorrvaskr there were some dominance issues to work out. The twins thought they were princes there, strutting around like they owned the place just because they were raised there. I put a stop to that, at least when I was around."

"Good!" She rubbed Aela's back then stepped away. "We should get inside. You go first so the heads don't bother you." Aela made a face and hurried away down the mountainside. Bryn picked up the two bundles and took them down, happy for Aela. It was so sad about Skjor though; he had died with no idea that he would be a father some day. She had to wonder how he would have handled fatherhood in his fifties, but he had always seemed to handle everything with complete calm and self-possession. She didn't think she had ever seen him truly lose his temper or composure. She could imagine him managing a child with the same competence he did the whelps, though of course with more kindness.

She took the shortcut down to the Tomb of Ysgramor, going in silently to watch her beloved for a few moments. He was pacing the Flame in circles, clenching and unclenching his fists, his face glistening as if he were sweating with stress. Farkas watched him warily, as if ready to grab him if he tried to make a run for it. Aela was moving off to the side then took a seat on a ledge.

"Was she gone?" Farkas asked Aela with worry.

"No, she was mining."

"Mining!" Vilkas exclaimed, still pacing. "Mining what, for Zenithar's sake!" It sounded like her, something he would have found charming if he wasn't coming apart at the seams.

"Gold, supposedly, on top of the mountain. There was a word wall up there too, with some kind of animal Shout. She was actually in the process of burying the heads and getting ready to leave when I went up there. You came to your senses just in time."

"Come on," Farkas pleaded with worry. "Just don't, please?" Aela shrugged and began digging through her pack for something to eat. He then saw Bryn standing by a treasure chest, and he motioned with his head for her to come over, a beseeching expression on his face. It had taken everything he had to get Vilkas down here, then another half an hour of nearly begging on his hands and knees to get his twin to agree to the cure. He was afraid if they didn't hurry Vilkas would change his mind again and take off. Bryn came over with the heads and Vilkas finally saw her, his eyes going wild, and Farkas yanked a bundle out of her hand and went to his brother, forcing it into his hands. "Do it, now. Go." Vilkas hesitated and Farkas pushed him towards the Flame of the Harbinger.

Farkas nearly shoved him into the cold flame, and Vilkas made a choked sound of dread and set the head in it, not giving himself time to think about it. He doubled over with a cry of agony as he felt something tearing inside, the wolf digging its claws into his soul as if refusing to go quietly or easily. The room swayed around him as he stumbled to his feet, seeing his brother and Bryn battling a monstrous, ghostly red wolf, Aela peppering it with arrows from a distance. He shook his head to clear his vision and pulled his great sword, and when he did the wolf turned and snarled at him. It came at him full bore, Farkas and Bryn following, taking swings at it. It was limping as it neared him, and the other two raised their weapons, waiting for him to make the final blow. When he did the wolf howled then dissolved, and he felt a tug and a snap then utter peace.

Vilkas took a deep breath and closed his eyes, blowing it out shakily, and when he softly laughed Bryn asked, "Are you all right?"

"I...It's like waking from a dream," he murmured. "I can breathe more deeply now, as if some invisible weight were pressing on my chest all these years." He took a deep breath again. "I can no longer smell you, or hear your heart beating, the way I used to. But my mind…it feels clear now." He had feared it wouldn't be. He had worried endlessly the last few weeks that he was simply a flawed human being, that none of his shortcomings were due to the beastblood.

"I'm…I'm glad."

He opened his eyes to see her staring at him, nearly in tears. "This…is a great service you've done for me, you and Farkas," he said haltingly. "My soul is clean now. Perhaps Kodlak and Ysgramor will still welcome me when my time comes."

"I know they will."

He looked at his twin and said, "Now you. I want to see you married before spring." Farkas smiled at him, his eyes shining, and Bryn tossed him the other head. The four warriors of the Circle braced themselves, then Farkas threw in the head, where it was consumed in a flash.

Farkas' wolf was every bit as difficult to dispatch as Vilkas', though he wasn't as staggered when it tore its way out, and this time there were four of them to fight it. The battle was brief, and when it was over Farkas stared at his brother with a dazed grin. Vilkas asked, "How does it feel?"

"Like relaxing into a warm mug of spiced mead," he sighed. "I'm losing aches I didn't even know I had." He moved away from the others and took a few swings with his sword, laughing. "This is how a warrior should feel: alive and aware, not clouded with thoughts of the hunt." He smoothly slid the sword into its sheath on his back then grabbed Bryn in a bear hug, swinging her around, making her laugh. "This is because of you, little sister. Now I can go home clean, and worthy of a wife and children. Thank you."

"It's because of Kodlak," she said as he set her down, though he still held her tightly against him. She put her arms around him and tucked her face into his neck, breathing deeply, but she couldn't sense anything different about him. It was nice to be held, and she could use the comfort. Farkas would be married soon, move to Breezehome, start a family, while Bryn and Vilkas kept stumbling along, finding stolen moments to enjoy each other then parting again, though with fewer fights now she hoped. Only time would tell if this would make any kind of difference in Vilkas' temperament. It was much too soon to tell. She felt a third hand on her, and when she lifted her head Vilkas was there.

He murmured with regret, "I'm sorry, love. I…have no idea why you've put up with me." His head was unmercifully clear now, growing clearer by the minute, and he saw all his many sins marching in front of his mind's eye…all the petty cruelties, the sneers, the jabs, the tantrums. _Unworthy!_ a tiny voice hissed in accusation. And now if he was unworthy of her there would be no beastblood to blame it on, only his own failings as a man. There was no way some mercenary could be worthy of the Dragonborn. He also saw that all too clearly now.

As his hand fell away she caught it and said, "For the same reasons you've put up with me."

"I've _never_ put up with you. Never."

Aela raised her voice and said, "Touching as this is, we need to get back. The whelps probably have Vignar tied up somewhere and all the mead drunk, if the place hasn't burned down."

"Aye," Vilkas said with a nod. He hesitated then put his arm around Bryn's shoulders, and she sighed happily and leaned against him, looking at him with shining golden eyes. No, he wasn't worthy of her, but he loved her, and she loved him, and all he could do was try.


	21. Chapter 21

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Eorlund's attention, and he nodded to Bryn then turned his attention back to the grindstone. "It suits you," he stated, referring to the gleaming green glass armor Bryn wore, a full set other than the helmet, the wearing of which she was notoriously against. She wore a gold and emerald circlet around her head, which looked nice but was useless, though there did seem to be the faint sheen of an enchantment on it. The green and gold flattered her coloring, though it all made her look just a bit more Elven, which was a shame for such a pretty lass.

"Thank you. I'm quite fond of it," she replied. This was the first time she would be wearing it to do a job. A very unofficial one.

"So Harbinger, what brings you to me today?"

"I've been thinking of this for some time. Months. Have you thought ahead to taking an apprentice?"

Eorlund grunted in surprise. "Huh. Yes, some. More so since Kodlak's passing. Though his death was untimely, we weren't neither of us young." He glanced up at her. "Something tells me you have someone in mind." It was heartening that she had put thought into this, starting well before she had ever dreamed of becoming Harbinger. She had pulled everyone together much better than he had imagined she would, and while there was still sadness over Skjor and Kodlak, people were moving forward and business was back to usual. If anything there was more business coming in, now that it was known that the Dragonborn was Harbinger of the Companions. Now if they could just get some promising new whelps into the ranks.

"Farkas."

"Is that so?" It was surprising.

"He used to help you at times, when he was younger."

"Aye. He didn't get in the way as much as he could have, I suppose. His iron work was passable." He wetted the blade with oil then continued grinding.

"Do you think he could do it?" Eorlund shrugged, which was more than she had expected.

"If he doesn't have one of his episodes while he's working, maybe. Quick way to ruin a piece, that."

"By time he's working on his own, he'd have children at the forge with him to snap him out of it."

"Is that so?" he said again, this time with even more surprise. "So the lad is thinking of taking a wife? That housecarl of yours, I assume."

"Yes, in the next six months I'd say, probably less." He and Lydia were so wrapped up in each other these days it was sickening, in a wonderfully sweet way. Bryn never slept in the house anymore, and Farkas almost always did, so Breezehome practically belonged to them already; Bryn had basically lived with Vilkas since returning from the Tomb of Ysgramor, spending every night in his bed, though she kept her gear and clothing in the Harbinger's quarters. It had been wonderful, her fears about it unfounded. While he was still hot-tempered, most of the time Vilkas was able to stop himself before doing something rash or mean, and he might get better still with time. It was a vast improvement in any case.

Farkas hadn't asked Lydia to marry him yet, but it wouldn't be long. Farkas wanted to fight a dragon before he semi-retired, and then he was going to ask her. On their way home from the Tomb, the Circle had picked up a rumor of a dragon at Shearpoint, a peak in The Pale, and where there was a dragon guarding a peak, there was a word wall. Bryn wanted Lydia to go with her on the mission, one last time, but what she needed to do now came first.

Eorlund stopped the wheel and set the sword across his lap, giving Bryn his full attention. "So you've heard then that my…son, doesn't know one end of the forge from another."

"Neither of them do, then?" Eorlund stared at her, chewing at his bottom lip, his expression hardening. She held her hand up and said, "Hear me out, Eorlund. Please. I don't say it lightly."

"Say what? You have a lot of nerve, bringing up Thorald to me. I don't care who you are." His younger son was dead, and he had come to accept that over the last year. He worried something was wrong with Fralia's mind that she couldn't.

"I wouldn't do it if I didn't have proof he's still alive." He blinked, sitting back. She pulled out a small, leather-bound booklet and held it out to him. "I broke into the Battle-Born house and stole this, and showed it just now to Fralia and Avulstein. Thorald's being held in Northwatch Keep, far in the northeast. Believe it or not, Idolaf Battle-Born has been trying for some time to find out what happened to him."

Eorlund stared at the missive, not taking it, then he looked up at her and said in a rough voice, "If you say it's so, Dragonborn, that's good enough for me."

"I'm heading there now to get him out."

The old smith closed his eyes and whispered, "Talos be praised." And indeed the girl wore an Amulet of Talos proudly, and had for some time. No one troubled her about it, though he had heard how she came about those sets of glass armor. He opened his eyes and asked, "How are you getting him out? That place is locked up as tight as an Imperial's fist and crawling with High Elves."

"I'm going to do it the way I always take forts like this: pick off everyone outside with a bow and work my way in. There won't be a single Thalmor left breathing by time I'm done." He nodded slowly, looking relieved but troubled. "I do this as Dragonborn, not as Harbinger, not as a citizen of Whiterun, if that's your concern."

"Ah, you read minds now too?"

"A lucky guess."

"I worry the Thalmor won't know the difference, or care."

"How will they even know it's me?"

"Who else could do this? Who else would dare?"

"Avulstein, for one. He wanted to go with me and I told him absolutely not. I won't have you and Fralia worried sick about two sons."

"I appreciate that," he said gruffly.

"I wish I had approached your wife earlier about it, but I thought only to comfort her. If I had known the situation I would have acted sooner."

"And gotten yourself killed, no doubt," he stated as he turned back to the grindstone. "I have two sons. We only got one Dragonborn."

Dismayed, Bryn stated, "That's a hard thing to say."

"My son's big mouth got him into this. Maybe now he'll learn to keep it shut if he wants to keep his head." He heard a noncommittal sound from the girl. As he began whetting the blade again she said, "Send Farkas up the next time he has a day free and I'll talk to him about his future."

"Yes, I will. Thank you, Master Smith."

"Thank you, Harbinger."

Bryn went back down to Jorrvaskr, where Vilkas waited at the side of the building, her gear at his feet. Warpaint framed his icy gray eyes. He had been training Torvar in the two-handed sword, while Farkas was still trying to convince Athis of the merits of heavy armor. Bryn frankly thought Torvar a lost cause, though his drinking had slowed somewhat since Kodlak's death. Ria and Njada were on some small job to retrieve a stolen heirloom, well within the young women's capability. Vignar had joined the Circle upon their return from Ysgramor's Tomb and had been an invaluable resource to them all. Everything was moving along smoothly and orderly, just the way she liked it.

"Heading out, love?" Vilkas asked in a resigned tone.

"Yes, I should get going," she said with similar regret. "I worry about what shape Thorald might be in, or if he's even still alive at this point."

"Aye. How did Eorlund take it?"

"Well, considering. And he agreed to take on Farkas. Could you let him know?"

"Of course. That's good news." He'd expected as much, but one never knew with Eorlund.

She put her arms around his neck. "I'll miss you. This last month has been…good."

He put his arms around her waist and murmured, "Yes it has." Very, very good, and he was going to be lonely as hell tonight. He had worried the entire way home that it would cause problems to have her there, that it would look bad to live with their new Harbinger, but it was impossible to sleep apart. Neither of them felt comfortable sleeping in Kodlak's room, and everyone still thought of it as such. Bryn had helped Aela clean out Skjor's quarters only a few days ago, but that room wasn't an option either. There was no point in sleeping apart, in fact it would look ridiculous to even try when everyone knew they were together. No one had given them any grief about it, not that it would have mattered.

Yes, the last several weeks had been good, so good that at times he had even considered asking her to marry him, his love for her stronger than it had ever been, and then thoughts of Alduin would rear their ugly head, or thoughts of how the last month had only been a lull in Bryn's career, how it wouldn't always be this way and before long she would grow restless and be on her way again. And here she was leaving. He knew she had to, and he didn't resent it, but he couldn't consider marrying someone who was always gone. What was the point to that? Bryn seemed content with what they had, for now, and there was no sense in bringing up anything that might cause dissent between them. It had been so peaceful lately he couldn't tolerate the thought of it. _He_ had been peaceful lately. There was no more beastblood pulling and pushing at his soul, and he was starting to respect himself again, and he woke up well-rested every morning next to a beautiful woman. It was enough, for now. And then there was his brother, head over heels in love with Lydia, anxious to start a life with her; Vilkas wasn't going to steal his thunder and wanted him to go first. If Bryn faced Alduin someday and lived, then he could think about marriage and children, but not until then.

Bryn played with the back of his hair and said, "I think I'll stop in Solitude on the way back and buy Proudspire Manor."

"Ah yes, you're behind on your plan of getting thaned everywhere." She laughed sweetly at that. He said with regret, "I suppose things will need to start moving again, eh love?"

"Yes, but I hope to spend at least one week a month here."

"Just make sure it isn't an inconvenient week." She laughed again, her cheeks turning pink. "How soon will you be back?"

Bryn shook her head. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I'm going to come back through the Reach. I have a letter to deliver to someone in Markarth that I completely forgot about, I'm embarrassed to say." To be fair, Bolli the fisherman hadn't said it was urgent, and she had made him aware that she had no idea when she would be going to Markarth. "I want to see the city and get a feel for what's going on in the hold. I know I talked about going to Eastmarch first, but I think I'll give Ulfric a bit more time to sweat things out." Vilkas laughed shortly at that. "It won't take long for word to get out that Northwatch has been cleaned out, and I want that to get to Ulfric as well. I'm certain Elenwen will know who did it, but that's her problem."

"Watch your back to make sure she doesn't make it yours."

"It'll take something with a fairly good punch to get through glass."

"True, and I'm glad you have it." It was the best light armor to be had, and Bryn wouldn't wear anything but light armor. She relied on speed and stealth, and needed the light weight and speed of movement light armor and weapons provided. The glass did look quite pretty on her, and the circlet made her look regal, altogether a good look for the Dragonborn. He touched the gleaming gold set with grass-green emeralds and saw the faint sheen of magic play over the surface. "This is new."

"I just enchanted it this morning with fire resistance. I can handle frost fairly well, but dragon fire is a different story. I haven't enchanted the armor yet. I want to find an enchantment for health or stamina regeneration that Farengar told me about. I also want to make my way up to the College of Winterhold eventually, to learn more about healing magic and enchanting." Vilkas grunted in distaste, and she assured him, "I'm not going to become a mage, beloved. And I have two pieces of an amulet I found that I wanted to have someone look at. I'm not in any hurry for that though. Winterhold seems a depressing place."

"That it is," he agreed. "I think they would shut the remains of the city down altogether if the College wasn't keeping it in business, and the Jarl not hanging on to the memory of old glories. It is a shame. Winterhold was proud once."

"I'll put it off until much later. Northwatch first, then Solitude, then Markarth, then…oh."

"What?"

"I completely forgot about Delphine and Esbern," she whispered in shock. She had so much going on lately that even with her journal she was starting to lose track. Tonight in camp she would have to go through it and cross out everything she had already taken care of, and make note of what still needed doing. She had thought about getting a new journal but this one had been with her since the start and had sentimental value.

"The Blades?" he said in derision. "They can go to hell."

"Well, yes, it would be nice if they could, however if I'm going to be in The Reach I should meet with them near Karthspire and see what they've found. If I can get them into their little hideout they've been looking for, that may satisfy them. And they might have additional information for me." Vilkas looked doubtful. She sighed, "I wish you could go with me. Not to Northwatch Keep, but to the other places. It would be so nice to travel Skyrim together."

"Before, I could have. Now…we can't both be gone." At least now he felt he could manage the Companions' business adequately on his own, in the short term, with the rest of the Circle's help. The younglings seemed to be treating him with somewhat more respect since his temper had gotten under better control as well.

"I know. It was wishful thinking." She kissed him tenderly then hugged him, and he held her close, burying his nose in her hair. "I'll miss you so much, Vilkas."

"Not as much as I'll miss you, love. You'll be so busy you won't even know the time has passed."

"Maybe before the last few weeks, but not now."

"I know, but…you'll be busy, and I'll be all alone in our bed, missing you." They practically lived as husband and wife, spending every night together, taking every meal together, bathing together, running the Companions together. Everyone seemed to like having her around, especially Aela, the two women having gotten rather close in recent weeks. Vilkas had even joked to the Huntress that she was trying to steal Bryn from him, and she'd warned him with a completely straight face that she had considered it and might still do it if he messed up again. He still wasn't sure if she had been joking or not. It was impossible to tell with her at times.

Bryn patted his cheek and said with a sad smile, "Oh honey…at least you'll be in a bed."

"True, that," he said with a quiet laugh. She kissed him again then let go, and he bent down to pick up her gear and hand it to her.

"Ugh, I hope the new house comes with a housecarl."

He laughed more loudly and said, "Yes, Lydia hasn't made a secret of how she is sworn to carry your burdens. Your very heavy burdens."

Bryn rolled her eyes then went on, "I would take Iona out if she were closer. Maybe before I go to Eastmarch I'll swing by Riften and pick her up. She seemed to have warmed up when Farkas and Lydia and I were there. Maybe she just needs drawing out. I certainly don't want to lug around dragon scales and bones on my own." She put her pack and bedroll on her back then picked up her glass shield. She hoped Elisif and Falk didn't ask where the Shield of Solitude had gone; she didn't want to have to tell them that she had disenchanted it to apply the magic to her new shield. She was tempted to give up shields altogether one of these days and take Athis up on learning to wield blades in both hands. She would have to find a sword that was as impressive as Dawnbreaker to balance it out though. Maybe something with a frost enchantment.

A fat drop of rain landed on Bryn's forehead, and she sighed heavily, "I should get going."

Vilkas grimaced. "Ah love, I'm sorry."

"It won't be the first time by far, or the last." She kissed him again lingeringly. "I love you."

"And I you. Stay safe, love." She smiled sadly at him and turned away, and he resisted the urge to walk her down the steps. He would then have to go to the gates, and then the stables, and he would never be able to let her go. She gave him one last smile then disappeared out of sight. He took a deep breath and headed back to the yard as it began to rain in earnest.

* * *

"_LAAS!_" From her spot behind an outcropping in front of the fort, Bryn detected eight Thalmor warriors, a handful of them walking on rounds inside the walls. Challenging, but not impossible.

She sneaked near the water to the back of the fort, her eyes lighting up when she saw a single guard standing watch at a gap in the wall. Another guard was on a raised platform looking Bryn's direction, and she slid behind a tree, blocking that guard's line of sight. She dipped an arrow in frostbite venom then took aim at the lone guard, overdrawing to get as much force as possible out of the bow. Even then it took three hits to take the Altmer woman down. Bryn got only one shot at the warrior on the platform before he dropped out of sight and roused his comrades.

"Damn!" Bryn whispered, ducking down behind the tree. Soon four guards were pouring out of the gap in the wall. She waited to see if they were coming, and indeed they were, no fool bandits or rotten-brained draugr. She took a shot at the one in the lead and he stumbled, then Bryn slung her bow on her back and pulled out her sword and shield.

"There she is!" one shouted.

Bryn kept moving to avoid the archers, focusing on the warrior in front of her, who conjured a ward. Bryn sliced at him with Dawnbreaker, dispelling the ward, then Shouted "_FO KRAH!_" He cried out as he stiffened, and one of the archers cried in Altmeris, "Dragonborn! Don't let her get away!" Bryn finished off the warrior then sprinted toward the nearest archer, bashing with her shield then taking the woman's head off. The other archer made a sound of fear and ran for the gap, and Bryn Shouted frost again, dropping the mer to his knees. She kicked him from behind and sank the tip of her sword into his back with both hands.

Breathless, she leaned against the wood wall, listening intently, and when no others came out she crept inside the walls. There were three Thalmor left, including one nursing an arrow wound in the arm, the one she had shot on the platform. She finished that one off with another poisoned arrow which brought the other two running, and with another frost Shout and Dawnbreaker's fire they were dispatched.

The keep itself wasn't large and took little time to move through, though the wizards' shock spells had taken their toll on her. Two of the wizards carried keys, which she pocketed, but the keep itself was surprisingly poor in loot. She did find a very valuable Elven sword that had some sort of banishing enchantment on it, but other than that there was little of worth and paltry gold. The gilded Elven armor was no doubt worth a pretty penny but would be hard to sell without raising too many questions.

The torture room when she found it was a nasty surprise, but she was relieved to find a young man with gray hair that had to be Thorald Gray-Mane, battered and abused, but alive. She hurried to him and tried one of the keys, and while she tried the other he lifted his head and stared at her with bleary eyes, trying to focus.

"You there," he mumbled. "What are you doing? You're not an Elf…are you?"

"I'm getting you out of here." The manacles came undone and she eased him to the floor, casting healing hands on him.

"Thank Talos," Thorald whispered, his voice breaking. "I never thought I'd see another friendly face again."

"We need to get you to safety as soon as possible. Let's move."

"Aye, but…how? How did you know I was here? Who are you?"

"No time. Can you fight?"

"Yes, gladly."

Bryn led him to the opposite door, surprised the man was as hale as he was after what he had to have been through. She wondered if he had any idea how long he had been captive. She held her hand up for him to wait and eased the door open, her bow at the ready. Two Thalmor warriors had their backs to her down the hall, and she put an arrow in one, getting the other's attention. She took one down with another arrow then Shouted frost at the other, waiting for her to weaken before putting an arrow into her.

"The _thu'um_," Thorald breathed. He shook himself and ran past her to flip two levers, opening the cells lining the walls. No one moved to leave, and he shouted, "Run, you fools! We're getting out of here!" When none of his fellow prisoners would set foot outside their cells he nearly tore his hair out in frustration.

Bryn touched his shoulder, making him flinch. "They'll leave on their own when they realize the Thalmor are all dead."

"All of them?" he said in shock.

"Yes, every single one I believe. In this fort, anyway."

Thorald followed the girl to the door, and when the gray light of a rainy day hit his eyes he nearly fell to his knees and wept. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen the sky, or heard a bird sing. He looked at her and she smiled, and it would have made his heart skip a bit if he were in better shape. By Dibella, she was a lovely lass, as fair and fresh as a spring day. "I cannot thank you enough for rescuing me from this place," he told her. "I suspect I'd never again see the light of day otherwise. But why would you risk your life for me? A stranger?"

"Your family was concerned for you. Your mother never gave up hope that you were alive, or your brother."

"And Da?"

"Well, he's…a practical man."

"Aye. Enough said." So his father had given up on him. Written him off. Sounded like the old man. "Where's Avulstein?"

"I told him to stay in Whiterun."

"But who are you?"

"My name is Brynhilde."

"That _thu'um_…you studied with the Greybeards?"

"Yes, some."

"I didn't think they let women into High Hrothgar."

"They do when they're Dragonborn."

"Dragonborn," he whispered in shock. "Gods be praised, it's true?" Bryn nodded. "I…I don't know what to say."

"We can talk more on the way to Solitude."

"Solitude!" he squawked. "Like hell! It's an Imperial stronghold!"

"You plan on walking home in rags? We need to get you proper clothes and supplies."

"I can't go back to Whiterun. It's too dangerous, for me and my family. Avulstein too, I would wager. I fear he may not be safe there anymore. They'll go looking for me, and Whiterun will be the first place they search." He shook his head. "No, our best hope now is to fall in with the ranks of the Stormcloaks."

Bryn rolled her eyes, muttering, "I was afraid you'd say that."

"What else would you have me do? Besides, Ulfric has the right of it. Skyrim for Nords. You should understand. You're Dragonborn."

"Yes, a half-Altmer Dragonborn." Thorald's eyes bugged as if they were about to fall from his head. "I despise the Thalmor, but I'm not happy with how Ulfric operates either."

"Ulfric is a great man!"

"Yes, but that doesn't make him a good man."

"Hard times call for hard men. He does what he has to."

"Does he? We'll see about that. Many folk other than Nords live here peacefully and prosperously. What do you think Ulfric would do if he became High King? Go on a racial cleansing spree like the Thalmor did, perhaps?"

"He would never do something so heinous!"

"Tell the people of Markarth that." Thorald shook his head and looked out the door. "Fine, run all the way to Windhelm in rags. If a dragon doesn't eat you on the way there, tell Ulfric that the one the gods have sent to clean up this mess is half-Altmer, that the Greybeards have declared me Ysmir, Dragon of the North, and the Stormcrown sits upon my brow. Let him chew on that until I _deign_ to visit his city."

"Aye. Yes, Dragonborn," he said hastily. The steel in her voice brooked no arguments. "Wait…dragon?"

Bryn rubbed her eyes then let her hand fall away. Of course he didn't know about the dragons, or anything else that had happened in the last six months. "Come, I'll escort you to Dragon Bridge and explain everything on the way. I know it's an Imperial outpost, but you can hide outside town while I get you properly outfitted. I didn't rescue you from the Thalmor to see you get eaten by a bear or freeze to death on your way to Ulfric."

"All right. Thank you." Thorald wasn't about to protest it. There wasn't any other easy way out of Haafingar other than over the Dragon Bridge. He also wasn't about to naysay the Dragonborn. Dragonborn! Truly these were strange, awful times if someone like that had been born again in Skyrim, though if she were half-Elven maybe she wasn't from Skyrim. She looked like a Nord though. She had the _thu'um_. If she thought she could sort things out, and if she was willing to slaughter a fort full of Thalmor just to rescue one man, all the more power to her, half-blood or not.

* * *

"Ah, the power of the dragon is yours! There can be no doubt that you are the Dragonborn of prophecy!"

Bryn glared at Esbern, breathing heavily as she knelt on one knee, her body aching with burns, hagraven scratches and two Forsworn arrows that had found gaps in her armor. This was not at all how she had planned on entering Karthspire, finding Esbern and Delphine fighting the biggest dragon she had ever seen other than Alduin, while a dozen Forsworn scrambled about firing randomly at either them or the dragon. Bryn had been forced to plunge into the heart of the camp spanning the river and dispatch the Forsworn that were swarming the place, and out of nowhere a hagraven had appeared, while all along the dragon attacked anything that moved. It had been complete chaos, trying to fight so many different enemies at once while keeping an eye on the Blades. To be fair, they had pulled their own weight in the fight and were in better shape than her.

"Didn't I tell you?" Delphine said with satisfaction.

"Yes, yes, and I believed before this, but…to see it with my own eyes!" Esbern said in delight. "In my own lifetime!"

Bryn growled, "Can we get on with this?"

"Oh, yes, of course, of course."

"The arrows!" she shouted. "Someone pull out _the fucking arrows!_" The two Blades recoiled as the sound cracked at them then rumbled into silence, and Bryn cursed them both as useless until Delphine finally nodded and came to her, her expression wary. Bryn never used that kind of language, but she was in so much pain at the moment that she was about ready to either explode in fury or collapse, and collapsing was not an option.

"Ready?" Delphine asked.

"Just do it," she said through gritted teeth. She screamed and fell forward onto her hands as the first arrow came out of her side, and when the second came out of her thigh right after that she nearly passed out. Her vision swimming, Bryn raised a hand to heal herself, refusing to wait for either of the Blades to do it, if they even could. The pain ebbed then disappeared as the wound closed and the blood flow stopped. She rose to her feet, shaking, and the two Blades watched her warily as she shoved Dawnbreaker into its sheath. She was in no mood to collect any dragon parts and stomped away from them, hearing them follow a moment later.

They crossed the river camp and went up the side of the hill to a cave, where three more Forsworn including a Briarheart waited. They were quickly removed and the small cave system passed through, then they found themselves in an open canyon-like area.

The Blades ran up the stairs, their faces shining. "Ah, early Akaviri stonework," Esbern said in admiration.

Delphine said, "We've got to get this bridge down. These pillars must have something to do with it."

"Yes, they're Akiviri symbols," Esbern answered. "Ah, let's see…you have the symbol for 'King'…and 'Warrior'…and of course for 'Dragonborn'. That's the one that appears to have an arrow shape pointing downward at the bottom." Bryn moved past him and turned all three pillars to the symbol for Dragonborn, trying not to roll her eyes. The stone drawbridge began to come down.

Delphine stated, "Whatever you did, it worked. Let's see what else those old Blades left in our way."

Bryn wasn't particularly impressed with the cleverness of the ancient Blades, quickly moving across the pressure plate puzzle. The three of them crossed another bridge, and after going up a short tunnel found themselves in a courtyard. Bryn had to admit she was impressed with the space, with a large carved stone head on the opposite wall and a series of concentric circles cut into the floor before it.

"Wonderful!" Esbern breathed. "Remarkably well-preserved too." He hurried to the circles, Delphine and Bryn following. "Ah, the 'blood seal'. Another of the lost Akaviri arts. No doubt triggered by…well, blood." He looked at Bryn. "Your blood, Dragonborn."

"Of course," she muttered, resisting the urge to quip that she was feeling a little short of blood right now. All she wanted right now was a meal and a nap.

He looked up at the giant stone face, pointing at it. "Look here! You see how the ancient Blades revered Reman Cyrodiil?" He wandered away to look at the other stonework.

Bryn closed her eyes and prayed for patience, then she bent down on one knee, pulling out a small utility knife. She looked back at the Blades and Esbern was engrossed in the scenery, but Delphine watched with glittering eyes. Bryn shook her head and turned back to the circle, pulled off a gauntlet then gritted her teeth and sliced a finger and let her blood drip onto the stone. The circle began to spin and glow as stone grated on stone and the giant head began to lift.

"That's done it!" Delphine said in amazement. "Look it's coming to life!" She ran to join Bryn, patting her on the shoulder, smiling broadly. "You did it, there's the entrance." She motioned ahead of her. "After you, Dragonborn. You should have the honor of being the first to set foot in Sky Haven Temple."

Esbern added with misgiving, "There's no telling what we may find inside."

Bryn tartly said, "Well then, by all means, let me go first."

"That isn't what I meant, Dragonborn," the old man said in dismay. The girl turned away from them and strode up the stairs, summoning healing magic as she went, and he glanced at Delphine to see her expression was guarded. The woman held her hands out and down, warning him to be careful, and he grimaced and nodded. The Dragonborn were known for being prickly, and it wouldn't do to offend, though it seemed to be impossible not to do so.

Bryn hurried ahead, wanting all this over with so she could eat and sleep. She pushed through stone doors and entered the temple proper, and the view took her breath away. She sensed the Blades lighting braziers behind her that had to have been cold for half a millennium, and they began to light up the huge room. A long stone table dominated the center, and more stairs went up the back. Then Bryn's eyes landed on the wall.

"Shor's Bones, here it is!" Esbern exclaimed. "Alduin's Wall!"

She listened with half an ear and watched numbly as Esbern ran up to it with a torch, starting from the left as he explained the bas-relief symbols and carvings. Instead of finding all this exciting, Bryn felt almost nauseous as she stared at the wall, seeing Alduin carved there three times. Esbern was convinced the key to defeating Alduin was a Shout, but Bryn had never heard of such a thing, and quietly told Delphine so when the older woman asked. If anyone knew it was the Greybeards. Bryn hadn't gone up to visit them since stopping there on the way home to Whiterun after becoming thane of The Rift. She supposed she was due, but she didn't like Delphine's attitude towards the monks. She found the Blade's resentment of them baffling.

"They're afraid of you, of your power," Delphine finished. "Trust me, there's no need to be afraid. Do you think Tiber Septim would have founded the Empire if he'd listened to the Greybeards?"

Angry over the speech, Bryn retorted, "Do you think Ulfric would be tearing Skyrim apart if _he_ had?" She turned back to the wall. "Don't worry, I'm not afraid of my own power. I haven't been for some time."

"Good. The Greybeards can teach you a lot, but don't let them turn you away from your destiny."

"What would that be? To give you a new purpose? Maybe displace Emperor Titus Mede II and found a new Dragonborn dynasty? Let's see, what fancy surname should I give myself…how about Dragon-Killer? Ice-Shouter? Storm-Crown? Yes, Empress Brynhilde Storm-Crown. Catchy, isn't it? Much better than Septim I think."

Delphine stared at her, her tongue in her cheek, then she quietly stated, "Not at all. You're Dragonborn, and you're the only one who can stop Alduin. Don't forget that. I haven't."

Bryn turned away from her, the rest of her little speech going in one ear and out the other. She watched Esbern near the end of the wall and let out a bitter laugh that startled the two Blades. So the Akaviri had assumed the Last Dragonborn would be a man. Hilarious. She would go see the Greybeards on her way to Riften, next time she passed that way, and see what they knew of this Shout, but who knew when that would be. She was well on her way to becoming Thane of The Reach, having spent more time in the hold than she had expected, and still had Falkreath Hold to add as a notch on her belt. If the Blades thought Bryn was simply going to hop to it and face Alduin soon they were out of their minds. She felt strong enough to deal with most anything, but today's painful encounter had shown her how far she still had to go. Alduin wouldn't meekly hover in place while she hid and shot arrows at him, anymore than today's dragon and Forsworn had.

She walked away from the other two and went up the steps to the right and soon found herself outside in a picturesque courtyard. The Akaviri architecture was alien to her, though attractive in its own way. She could see Kolskeggr Mine far below, to the right. The Reach had its own beauty, as every hold did, full of canyons and rock and rushing rivers. She would return here after visiting home for a bit and taking Farkas on his dragon hunt, along with Lydia, and make herself Thane of The Reach, once she had accumulated the necessary funds to purchase Vlindrel Hall. Then she would move on to Falkreath, then The Pale, then Winterhold. She would save Ulfric Stormcloak's hold for very last. By then he would have more than enough time to ponder things. She just hoped that the fellow she had first rescued from the Thalmor, and Thorald, would have the guts to give Ulfric her message. Time would tell.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Extra-long chapter as this all felt like it belonged together.**

"Amazing," Farkas breathed. "Just like Vilkas said." The dragon was awe-inspiring, even sleeping on top of the word wall at Shearpoint. It was immense, the biggest living thing he had ever seen, and was a beautiful copper-bronze color with a leaf-shaped tail. Vilkas had called fighting a dragon his most fantastic battle ever, and Farkas was eager to see if this lived up to his expectations. He had thought his twin a bit of a baby for admitting to being terrified at first, but now that he was about to do it he had to admit he was a bit anxious himself.

"Wondrous, isn't it?" Bryn whispered back. "I always feel a little guilty when they're like this. Then they wake up."

"What's in the coffin?"

"We saw this at Volskygge," Lydia murmured, seeing Bryn nod in agreement. "It might be a dragon priest. A draugr that floats around throwing spells. Nasty. Best stay away from the coffin until the dragon is dealt with."

"Okay then. Ladies first." Bryn and Lydia took out their enchanted bows as he drew his sword from his back, the two women having agreed to provide back-up and let him face it on the ground. He was actually a little nervous at this point.

"Watch for the tail once it's grounded, big bear," Bryn warned as she drew back the bowstring.

"Got it." He didn't want to end up with a broken leg as Vilkas had. With his luck it would heal crooked and he'd have a limp the rest of his life. It wasn't as if he planned on completely giving up fighting. He liked smithing with Eorlund more than he had expected, finding something soothing about the rhythm of it, but he was still a member of the Circle, still a warrior, still a trainer. The old smith was firm but fair, not prone to praise or undeserved criticism, and Farkas was glad that Bryn had suggested this new path in his life. He didn't want Lydia always worrying about him the way she did about Bryn. The way Vilkas worried about Bryn. He sure as hell didn't want his children growing up without a father.

The women let their arrows fly, and the dragon screamed and launched itself into the air, electricity crawling over its hide. The three of them ran into the open, staying well away from the word wall and the sarcophagus. Farkas raised his hands over his head and shouted at the dragon, "Here I am, you big bastard! Come and get me!"

Lydia shook her head while Bryn laughed, feeling happy. The trip up here had been enjoyable, the banter light-hearted, though she missed Vilkas. She could tell he felt left out, but he and Farkas couldn't both be gone. Jorrvaskr was running well these days, nearly two months after Kodlak's death and Bryn becoming Harbinger; business was brisk and the junior members were toeing the line. Bryn had greater expectations of the Companions than Kodlak and his predecessors had, as did Vignar, in fact she and the old man saw eye to eye on pretty much everything. Vilkas had sometimes seemed taken aback by it, having come of age under a Harbinger who believed in letting everyone follow their own path, in whatever way they saw fit. Bryn did only to a certain extent. She and Vignar both considered the honor and reputation of the Companions as a whole to be of greater significance than any given member's personal sense of honor, or bringing in coin; they both felt the latter would naturally follow the former. Vilkas had seemed a little confused by their firmness but had gone along with it, while Farkas didn't seem to notice or care and Aela approved. Vilkas had told her early on, before they were a couple, that coin was what he fought for, but there had been defensiveness there, and the longer he lived without the beastblood the more he seemed to value his own personal honor, and the honor of their company.

Bryn wanted the Companions to be more than principled mercenaries, and wished she could be around more to enforce that, but after they returned to Whiterun she would only have a week there before she headed out again. She was a full thane of The Reach now and owner of Vlindrel Hall, a home she found more to her liking than Proudspire Manor, though she found the male housecarl there a bit hard to feel comfortable around, simply due to his maleness. Argis was also quite handsome even with his scarred eye, and she felt unable to completely relax in the house, no matter how professional his manner was, and taking him on jobs was simply out of the question. It made her feel guilty and she had made sure to say very little to anyone about the man. She had spent little time in the house anyway, and in Markarth in general. While Jarl Igmund was a good man, as was his uncle and steward, Raerek , the Silver-Blood family seemed just as dirty as the Black-Briars. There was some business going on with a man named Eltrys and the Forsworn that she hadn't gotten involved in yet, and Bryn had already annoyed the Silver-Bloods by driving their sellswords out of Sanaurach Mine in Karthwasten. She wasn't ready to involve herself any further in their business yet. The fact that Jarl Igmund refused to bow to the Silver-Bloods' demands told Bryn what a decent person he was, though the Thalmor agents patrolling his palace were no doubt an incentive. Bryn found their arrogance disgusting, though she wondered why they hadn't confronted her. All of Skyrim knew that she was the one who had 'given the Thalmor a black eye', and she had even encountered a small group of them on the road sent to kill her, and yet Ondolemar had said nothing about it. It was odd.

Bryn and Lydia hung back once the dragon was grounded, hitting the beast with arrows as Farkas went in with his sword. Bryn was unable to use any Shouts, afraid of hitting her friend. The battle was much harder than expected, the dragon larger and fiercer, and it was all Bryn could do to hang back and let Farkas do the bulk of the fighting. He finally finished the beast off by ducking under a wing and sinking his sword into its side, and it reared up and threw him onto his back as it went into convulsions. He rolled out of the way as its body came crashing back down. As he climbed to his feet it began to glow, and the light flowed past him to Bryn, who closed her eyes and let the soul come to her.

"Will you look at that," Farkas said in amazement. He hadn't seen Bryn absorb a dragon soul before. She hadn't even been the one who killed it.

"Incredible, isn't it," Lydia said with pride. "How many do you think now, my thane?"

"Twenty? I've lost track," Bryn murmured. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, feeling the word wall pulling insistently at her. She hadn't felt one pull this strongly at her since the first one. She pulled out Dawnbreaker and her shield, saying, "Time to see what's in the sarcophagus. Ready?" The other two nodded, Farkas looking a bit rough around the edges but mostly unharmed. Bryn crept toward the sarcophagus, and when she was within ten feet of it the lid cracked and flew off, and a dragon priest floated out of it with a hiss of _"Krosis!"_

Between the three of them the undead creature was quickly finished, though the fire from its staff had left them all a bit singed. After Bryn healed everyone Farkas went to the pile of ash and brittle armor, poking it with his foot, then picked up a bronze-colored mask attached to a brown hood, shaking the ash off. "Do they all drop these?" he asked.

"I don't know," Lydia answered, taking the mask from him to clean it off. "We've only encountered one other before, in Haafingar hold." She tossed the mask to Bryn, who turned it over in her hands as she walked back to what remained of the dragon skeleton. The other woman took off her circlet then pulled on the mask. Lydia heard a sound of interest from her. "What do you think, my thane? Can you tell what it does?"

"I like this one," she said with pleasure, her voice sounding hollow. "This could be useful…hm. It enhances lockpicking, archery and alchemy! Definitely useful." The other mask she had, Volsung, was good for breathing underwater, carrying extra weight and squeezing a bit more gold out of merchants, but she never used it, and so it sat in a chest in the bedroom in Proudspire Manor. This one, Krosis, was something she could use almost constantly while adventuring, and she planned to.

"That's great, right up your alley," Lydia said with a smile. She turned back to Farkas, opening her mouth to ask him if he wanted to keep the dragon skull, then her mouth fell open farther when she saw what he was pulling out of the neck of his armor. He smiled at her, his silvery-gray eyes sparkling, and she stammered, "Is that an Amulet of Mara?" She nearly hit herself in the forehead for sounding like a fool. Of course it was an Amulet of Mara. The sneaky man!

"Sure is," he said with a grin.

Lydia laughed in delight then composed herself and said seriously, "My, I'm surprised someone like you isn't already taken."

"Interested in me, are you?"

"Why yes, yes I am."

He let out a shaky breath of relief and took her hands in his. "Then it's settled. You and me."

"You and me," Lydia agreed, standing on her toes to kiss him, her eyes shining, then she threw her arms around his neck with a laugh of pure happiness. She should have known he had something up his sleeve from the way he'd been acting lately. She had considered lately asking him to marry her but had kept putting it off, in case Bryn asked her to go out with her again. Bryn hadn't asked, and hadn't taken her when Lydia had been the one to press the matter. Lydia disliked Bryn going out alone—everyone did—but Lydia couldn't force herself on her lady, and Bryn had seemed fine lately, always coming back to Whiterun in good spirits with fantastic stories to tell. Lydia missed being part of those adventures, missed the sisterhood of the road, but the last two and a half months at home in Whiterun had been satisfying too, especially since Farkas had been apprenticing with Eorlund. It already felt somewhat like they were married. Actually being married though would be so much better.

Lydia let go of Farkas to look at Bryn, and felt a pang of worry go through her to see the other woman standing stock still near the dragon skull, facing their direction. She could only assume Bryn had been watching, since her eyes were impossible to see in the depths of the mask from this distance. A sudden chill crawled over Lydia's skin along with a sense of foreboding, even more terrible than she had felt when she had first realized Vilkas intended to bed Bryn. Vilkas and Bryn had been a couple a month longer than Farkas and Lydia. Vilkas and Bryn had fallen head over heels in love from the very start, while Farkas and Lydia had gradually come together. Life in Skyrim could be short and brutal at times, and once you found someone compatible you didn't waste time on long courtships; that Farkas and Lydia were now engaged while Vilkas and Bryn were not seemed wrong.

Bryn seemed to deflate then nodded at them and turned away to gather dragon scales and bones, and Lydia looked up at Farkas to see him frowning, also worried about Bryn. "I don't like this," Lydia whispered.

"Me neither," Farkas replied in kind. "My brother is an idiot. Brains of Ysgramor my ass." Lydia made a sound of agreement and leaned against him, and he put his arm around her while they waited for Bryn to finish her business then go to the word wall. They were going to have to snap her out of it on the way back to Whiterun or who knew what she would do.

* * *

Farkas took off at a jog once they reached Honningbrew Meadery, wanting to let his brother know they were back and let him know the good news. Lydia immediately turned to Bryn and said in a firm tone, "All right, enough, my thane. You've hardly said a word the entire way back, and I'm sick of looking at that ugly mask." Bryn grumbled and took it off, shoving it in her pack, and Lydia saw with dismay that Bryn's eyes and nose were puffy and red. "How long have you been crying under that damn thing!"

"I don't know, an hour or two," she said glumly. "I'm sorry. This was supposed to be special for you and Farkas, and…and I've ruined it."

Lydia sighed, "No you haven't, we—"

"He's never going to marry me!" she wailed, then put her face in her hands and started sobbing. She felt Lydia's arms go around her, and she wept, "I had the amulet in my hands and he just fidgeted and didn't say a word, so I gave it to Farkas."

"Oh Bryn," Lydia murmured sadly. "Maybe he was waiting for you to do it. To put it on."

"I know what he would do. Nothing. Or he'd try to make a joke of it, to lessen the sting of rejecting me."

"You don't know that. He loves you, I know he does. I've seen him with you and he adores you."

"He fears as much as he loves."

Lydia frowned deeply, not knowing how to react to such a strange statement. It was terribly sad that Bryn had given that amulet to Farkas instead of using it herself. It was sweet though that it had come from her, that she had known Farkas wanted to marry Lydia. She was sure though that Bryn hadn't known Farkas was going to do it on the side of a mountain after killing a dragon and a dragon priest, or she wouldn't have reacted the way she had. It hadn't been particularly romantic, but it had definitely been memorable.

Bryn lifted her head and sniffed, and the other woman stared back with sympathy, her arms still around her. "You're so lucky to have Farkas. If only I could have loved the right one the right way!" Lydia clucked her tongue, already knowing about all that. Bryn shook her head and went on in a broken voice, "I'm happy for you two, believe me. I'm glad that the two people I love best love each other. I don't want to ruin this for you. I tried so hard not to get upset."

"You won't ruin this. You can't. I understand why this is hard for you."

"But _why_ is it? Why am I cursed like this? What did I ever do to offend the gods so much that they're doing this to me? What good is all this power if I don't have the power to make myself happy?"

"You can't help who you love."

"I know, but…what made me love him? He was so mean to me at first, so why?"

"He's awfully easy on the eyes," Lydia said with regret. "They both are, but Vilkas has that…certain something, I don't know what it is. Intensity, I suppose." Though she had to admit that he had calmed somewhat since Kodlak's death and Bryn becoming Harbinger. He no longer had that creepy, unnerving edge to him he'd always had before. She wasn't sure what had changed, but it had changed. Farkas had settled a bit too, seeming less distracted. Maybe Bryn's leadership really had been good for the Companions, and the twins personally. Maybe it was just having a female leader, who knew.

"I know how much he loves me," Bryn continued helplessly. "How can he love me so much but not want to marry me?"

"Maybe he does and is afraid to. You're gone so often…maybe he honestly is afraid of losing you."

"Not marrying me won't change that!"

Lydia shrugged. "I'm just trying to reason it out. You just said that he fears as much as he loves, so you know he's afraid of something. You two practically live together, and he's happy with it, so maybe he thinks it's enough for now."

"Well it isn't. If he'd at least talk to me about it—"

"But you aren't talking to him either." Bryn didn't dispute that. Lydia gave her a gentle shake by the shoulders. "Maybe seeing me and Farkas marry will get him thinking about it."

"Maybe seeing my handsome housecarl in Markarth will get him thinking about it."

Lydia slowly shook her head, saying in a tone of warning, "Don't you dare, Bryn. Making him more afraid won't help matters one bit and you know it. Why would he want to marry someone who would do that to him?" Now she knew why Bryn had hardly mentioned the man at all.

"Why should the Dragonborn settle for someone who thinks she's good enough to fuck around with but not good enough to marry!" Lydia's mouth fell open as her eyes widened in shock, then Bryn gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth, horrified. "I didn't say that," she whispered. "Tell me I didn't just say that!" Lydia kept staring at her in dismay then closed her mouth and shook her head again. The thing was, Bryn did feel that way, or at least she had all of today while stewing behind her mask. All day long she had turned the whole matter over and around in her head every which way, driving herself mad trying to figure out why Vilkas wouldn't propose to her. He was afraid of something, she and Lydia both knew that. Afraid of her leaving him, afraid of losing her to Alduin or some other enemy in her travels…their not being married wouldn't change any of that, but maybe he thought he was protecting himself. Well, it was coming at cost to her, and she resented it. It sounded vain, but she was the damned Dragonborn, and if she was good enough to sleep with for all these months she was good enough to marry.

When Bryn rubbed her eyes Lydia took her arm and gave it a tug. "Come on, pull yourself together," she demanded gently. "We have a wedding to plan, then after the wedding you and I are hitting the road again."

"You can't do that!" Bryn protested, stumbling as Lydia hauled on her arm. "You're getting married!"

"Yeah, so?"

"But…Farkas will miss you!"

"Farkas is learning a new craft and doesn't need any distractions. We'll take a few days after the wedding to relax, maybe stay in Riften and boat on the lake a bit or something, then you and I are going to head to…what's your next target?"

"Well…Falkreath—"

"We'll go to Falkreath."

"But…aren't you having children?"

"Merciful Arkay, not yet! Maybe we'll start trying in six months, maybe a year. Farkas really wants babies, and that's fine, but I'm in no hurry, and like I said, Farkas doesn't need any distractions. I can't imagine a bigger one than a screaming baby keeping you up all night. You clearly need me more than he does. Gods only know what you've been brewing up in that head of yours all these weeks alone." Bryn sputtered in offense, and Lydia didn't care, knowing she was right. Bryn didn't need Lydia's physical protection anymore, but she needed companionship on the road, someone to help keep her head on straight. Lydia felt she had been remiss in paying attention to Bryn's needs, but it had been easy to do with Bryn always up at Jorrvaskr when she was home in Whiterun. Farkas would cope just fine without Lydia, his full attention usually on whatever was right in front of him. He would miss her but he would stay plenty busy with Eorlund and the Companions. They would each have the comfort of knowing they belonged to each other and every separation was only temporary. Also, Vilkas would be provided with a positive example, and it just might help him pull his head out of his backside.

* * *

"Come to see Balimund perform miracles with steel, eh?"

"Perhaps some other time. I thought I would watch your pretty assistant instead." Bryn straightened up from the workbench at the sound of Vilkas' voice. He smiled warmly at her and she returned the smile hesitantly, her eyes flicking to Balimund. She had been in Riften for nearly a week now, preparing for Lydia and Farkas' wedding, which was taking place tomorrow. Vilkas had come ahead of the others and was obviously unexpected. He wondered just how much time she had been spending at the forge during her time here. He was not at all pleased with the idea. She looked as if she had been here all day, her face smudged with soot.

The smith smiled and stood to offer Vilkas his hand. As the other man took it he couldn't help noticing the thick gold bracelet Vilkas wore, and remembered Bryn crafting it. "I didn't recognize you out of your armor and war paint, Companion. Well met."

"Aye, well met, Master Smith."

"You flatter me." He jerked his thumb at Bryn. "This one though, she's getting there. There's nothing more I can teach her. I sure wasn't the one that taught her to work ebony. I'll credit old Gray-Mane for that." The girl had found an ebony shield the other day in the ruins of Forelhost nearby, and when she had asked if she could use his equipment to improve it he had been more than happy to oblige, just for the pleasure of watching her work. Her gift of fresh fire salts hadn't hurt either. It had sent faint regret through him to watch her at the workbench; it would have been nice to have a wife to work next to him.

He had finally just come out and asked her that day why she hadn't told him she was taken, and it had nearly reduced her to tears and made him feel terribly guilty. Her explanation had been honest and had made sense, but he'd been surprised to hear that it was the twin with the shorter hair that was her lover, and that she was back in Riften to arrange the wedding of the other brother, who was marrying her housecarl from Whiterun. He'd changed the subject, sensing it was uncomfortable to her, and had asked instead what she'd been up to lately other than pissing off the Aldmeri Dominion, and the things she had told him had left him stunned. He wasn't sure how she found the time to eat and sleep, let alone do any smithing.

"She's a quick study, and Eorlund a good teacher," Vilkas replied. "My brother is currently apprenticing with him, to one day take his place."

"No offense, but that's a tall order."

"Aye, this is true. Still, it is the Skyforge we're talking about, and it seems to have accepted Farkas."

"I can only imagine the honor of working it, but this one here," he said, patting the side of his forge, "she'll do just fine. As long as my friend Bryn keeps me in fire salts."

Finally speaking up as both men looked at her, she quietly said, "As long as conjurers keep throwing fire atronachs at me, I will."

Vilkas nodded at her and said, "Come, finish up what you're doing and show me Honeyside. I left my things with Iona but didn't want to poke around."

"I'm almost done. I just have to polish up the second ring. I um…made wedding bands for Farkas and Lydia. I was going to take them to Maramal to enchant with the matrimonial blessing. At the…the temple." She quickly turned back to her task to avoid seeing Vilkas' reaction. "I found a new mask the other day. I can't believe I missed a ruin so close to town when I was here before. I took Iona with me this time. She did all right, but it just wasn't the same as it is with Lydia. I found a new Shout there, but I nearly killed some guards with it yesterday when a dragon showed up outside town, so I'm afraid to use it again. Are Lydia and Farkas with you?"

He hesitated, her stream of speech sounding almost frantic. He had to admit, he wasn't looking forward to setting foot in that temple. "No, they're a day behind me, with the rest of the party. I told them I wanted to have some time with you before the rest of the rabble show up." She nodded, buffing at the item on the table. He leaned against the side of the building and asked, "What is this new Shout of yours?"

"_Strun._ Storm. I thought it would throw a lightning bolt, but it ended up calling down a lightning storm a minute long, and it didn't care who was friend or foe. If the guards hadn't gone under cover it would have killed them. I felt terrible."

"Well, how were you to know?" Balimund said as he went back to the tanning rack.

"I suppose. I'm glad Jarl Laila saw it that way."

The smith laughed, "You think any jail could hold you?"

"No, but I doubt I'd be too welcome in town after that," she answered with a quiet laugh. "I like it here and would rather not get banished, thank you very much, or lose my house."

"So, big party at Honeyside tomorrow night, eh?"

"I hope so. I tried to think of everything, but I'm not used to being a host."

"Lots of drink and plenty of food, the rest takes care of itself. Good thing you don't have any neighbors close by, though."

"Would you like to go?" she offered. "Mjoll is going but I didn't think anyone else would be interested." Her fellow thane was eager to meet the other Companions and had offered to bring a drum, since for some odd reason no Bards were permanently posted in Riften.

He held up his hands and shook his head. "Oh no, no. Thanks for the offer, but you Companions are too wild for an old smith like me."

"Well, I'm really not wild either."

Vilkas smirked and drawled, "Is that so?" Bryn shot him a look of alarm while Balimund made a sound of interest and turned around. "Well, I hate to be a gossip, but someone has a hard time resisting a good Elven reel, especially when it's combined with cold Honningbrew mead." The smith guffawed at that.

Bryn sputtered and turned back to polishing the ring as she said, "Elven dances are the only ones I know, for obvious reasons, and it was only the one time. I'll never get drunk ever again."

"That's too bad. Athis and Farkas are bringing their instruments."

"I never said I wouldn't dance ever again." Both men laughed at that. She held up the ring along with its twin, inspecting them critically, then she turned and held them out to Balimund. "What do you think? They're both warriors, so I had to keep them simple."

The smith's eyebrows rose as he took the rings from her. He glanced at her then back to the rings. "Dwarven metal?" The girl nodded and he let out a whistle. The rings were beautiful, a light reddish-gold color. He handed them back to her and said in approval, "Excellent work. Beautiful but simple and strong, good for a married warrior. I never would have thought of using Dwemer metal for jewelry. Mind if I steal your idea?"

"Not at all. Thank you."

"No, thank you for showing me something new. I think Madesi will find the idea interesting as well." He winked at her then turned back to the tanning rack. "Make sure you stop by and say goodbye before you leave Riften." Vilkas looked like he didn't particularly like them standing close to each other, his arms folded and brow slightly creased. Well, if he was jealous then he was insecure, and if he was insecure there was a reason for that. If he and Bryn weren't married yet after all their months together then something clearly wasn't right between them, and clearly Vilkas was making a big mistake.

"I will. It won't be for a few days I think, but I will." She slid the rings into her pocket and left the forge, Vilkas falling into step at her side.

When Bryn said nothing he asked, "Mind if I look at the rings?" She nodded and held them out on her palm, not looking at him. In fact she hadn't looked at him for more than a second since he had arrived. He took the rings, trying not to get angry or feel hurt and only partially succeeding. She'd hardly looked at him or talked to him after coming back from Shearpoint either, stopping in Whiterun only long enough to drop off the dragon remains, check in with Vignar, then head out again, using the excuse of going ahead to arrange the wedding in order to avoid Vilkas. He knew she was avoiding him, and he knew why. He was going to have to talk to her about it today, to make sure the tension between them didn't ruin his brother's wedding, and the thought of it made his guts knot with anxiety.

He held the rings at the tips of his fingers, rubbing his thumbs against the gleaming metal, admiring the sheen and the color. He had never seen Dwemer jewelry either and had to admit it was certainly fit for a warrior. He glanced at Bryn and she still refused to look at him, and when he held the rings back out to her she took them with lowered eyes, picking them out of his palm as if trying to avoid physical contact with him, though she hadn't avoided it with Balimund. Feeling his temper starting to rise, he kept his mouth shut until they reached Honeyside, afraid that anything he said would start an argument or make Bryn dissolve into tears, and if Bryn got angry enough and started yelling the whole town might hear it. Unfortunately it seemed there would be no avoiding a confrontation.

When they entered the house Iona stood, asking Bryn, "Would you like to bathe, my thane? You've been at the forge all day."

"That would be nice, thank you," Bryn murmured. Vilkas picked up his two packs and she pointed to the bedroom within view. "You can set your things anywhere—" He threw the bags next to the bed, with more force than necessary, sending a shiver of dread through her. "I ah, I'm going to take these over to the temple. I'll only be gone a few minutes."

Vilkas nodded, beginning to slowly pace through the room, his arms folded, and Bryn turned and basically fled the house. He looked at the redheaded housecarl, who met his gaze with mixed annoyance and worry. He told her, "Perhaps you should go for a walk when she gets back."

Iona lifted her chin and stated, "With all due respect, Companion, this is not your house. I leave if or when my thane tells me to."

"Well then, be prepared to witness a lovers' quarrel."

Offended, she said, "You came to Riften a day early to argue with my lady?"

"No, but it looks like it's going to end up that way."

"I don't see what she could have possibly done in the five minutes after you left your belongings here to warrant an argument. My thane is good and kind. She has spent the last three days arranging a wedding party for _your_ brother, and she spent all morning crafting wedding bands for your brother and his bride. The least you could—"

"Has Balimund been in this house?" Iona stiffened, her eyes widening furiously, then he muttered, "Never mind. Forget I asked." That had been a stupid question even for him, worthy of the old Vilkas.

"I shall _not_ forget," she said in a tense voice, then she turned on her heel and went out the back door to fetch water.

"Idiot," Vilkas muttered to himself, sitting down on the edge of Bryn's bed. The housecarl was right; Vilkas was starting something that wasn't warranted. Bryn was avoiding his gaze and acting nervous because he had surprised her, with someone he was a bit jealous of, and because they were going to a wedding tomorrow and the subject of marriage was an uncomfortable one between them. She had avoided him after returning from Shearpoint because marriage was on her mind. He had no idea what to say to her on the matter. The thought of asking her to marry him made him sick with anxiety, and the idea of actually marrying her was one he couldn't even begin to think about.

When Bryn returned Iona was standing with her hands on her hips in front of the fire as if on guard duty, watching the water start to boil. She gave her housecarl a hesitant smile then looked past her to where Vilkas had left his bags. "Where is he?" she whispered, feeling nauseous with nerves.

"My thane," Iona said with quiet firmness, "please don't…ugh. I don't even know how to say this." It was the other housecarl's job to be the hand-holder. It wasn't in Iona's nature at all, but she had to defend her lady.

"It's all right, Iona. You…you can go if you want."

"Absolutely not. I refuse to abandon you to be verbally abused by that…_male_. He had the nerve to ask if Balimund had been in the house."

"He what!" Bryn exploded, her trepidation instantly erupting into anger. "Where is he?" she repeated.

"On the back porch."

Bryn stormed out the back door to the balcony, where Vilkas was leaning on the railing watching fish hawks fly over the lake. "How dare you," she seethed as she slammed the door shut. He sighed heavily and put his chin in his hand, still staring out over the water. "He has never set foot in this house, and I've never set foot in his. He's my friend and nothing more."

Vilkas muttered, "Yes, I realize that."

"If you have a problem with Balimund, you sure as hell had better never go to my house in Markarth, because you'll have a very serious problem with the housecarl there."

"Is that so," he said in aggravation, turning to look at her. He had been ready to apologize until she had gone there. "Handsome, is he?"

"Yes, very."

"More handsome than me?" Her attitude faltered at that as she looked uncertain, not knowing how to respond. "I came a day early to spend time with you, and you can't even look at me, even after I was courteous to the smith. I shook his hand and was polite to him, and vice versa, with no hard feelings—"

"Then why did you say that!"

"Because I am an idiot, that's why. Why do I ever say any of the stupid things I say? I was going to apologize until you brought up your handsome housecarl, and let me guess, he's blond?" Bryn's cheeks turned pink, confirming his guess. He resisted the strong urge to say something snide and instead said, "I know you would never be unfaithful to me. That isn't even a consideration. I shouldn't have said what I did to Iona. I took it back right away but it made no difference to her." Bryn said nothing, though her eyes slid away from his. "You came back from Shearpoint and hardly said a word to me. I come here and you still won't look at me or talk to me. What did I do?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"Aye, and that's the problem, isn't it." She didn't reply, though she swallowed hard and blinked. Vilkas grumbled and leaned on the railing again to look out over the water. It was certainly beautiful here. There was even a little dock with a rowboat. Dragonflies flitted over the water and salmon swum serenely beneath them. It was no wonder Bryn liked it here. Riften had more than its share of problems, but there were good people here, and the house was warm and welcoming, and The Rift was lovely country. When it became apparent that Bryn wasn't going to be the one to broach the subject, he finally said with some difficulty, "I'm sorry that it upsets you, but…I…I can't. Marriage…I can't."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Gods help me, I don't know why, but the thought fills me with… It's terrifying. I'm sorry."

"Is it me?"

The despairing question made a lump rise in his throat, and he moved to take her in his arms but she stepped away from him. "How can you say that?"

"Because no one wants to marry me. No one but Balimund has ever shown any interest in me at all. Because I'm Dragonborn and a freak."

"That's bullshit," he said roughly. A tear slid down her cheek and he tried to touch her again but she wouldn't allow it. "There's nothing wrong with you. I'm…"

"If you say 'It's not you, it's me' I'm going to punch you."

"Just…give me some time to get used to the idea."

"How much time do you need? How much do you think I have?" she cried, finally turning to look at him. Vilkas stared back uncomfortably, and she asked him, "If I surprised you one day with an Amulet of Mara around my neck, you'd ignore it, wouldn't you? You'd pretend it wasn't there, or give me some platitude with pity in your voice."

"I don't pity you. I love you. You know how much I love you. I asked you to live with me, damn it."

"But not in the old Nord way. Not with the pledging of our troth or any intention of permanence. You have a way out. You'll make sure you always have a way out."

He slowly shook his head. "That is not at all how it is. I don't want to marry because I don't want to, simple as that. I enjoy our time together, and I like living with you, when you're there, but you're almost never there. What is the point of marrying when we see each other a few days a month, if that?"

"Because it isn't always going to be this way. Once I deal with Alduin and the Thalmor, I won't be traveling like this anymore."

"And when that day comes, we can talk about it again. But for now what is the point?"

Bryn didn't answer right away, staring at him with a heartbroken expression. The point was that someone loved her enough to want to belong to her, and her to him, and wanted the world to know it. The point was feeling secure, and wanted. The point would escape him and she wasn't going to try to explain it. She couldn't understand how he could love her as much as he claimed to and not want the promise of permanence. When Farkas had set his sights on Lydia, he had liked her a great deal but hadn't loved her yet. She nearly asked Vilkas what the point was of staying in a relationship that he had basically admitted was going nowhere. She finally said, "Well then, I'm glad we got that all aired out."

He sighed, "Come on, don't be that way."

"You just told me you have no intention of ever marrying me. How do you expect me to be?"

"That is not at all what I said. I said when the day comes that there's no longer a reason for you to travel all the time, we could talk about it again."

"What tells me the outcome would be no different then?" Vilkas stared at her with his jaw clenched. "So tell me this, if I wasn't traveling all the time, if I hadn't been Dragonborn, if I was just a regular Companion and always in Whiterun, would you marry me then?"

"I don't play around with 'what ifs'," he growled. "_This_ is how it is, right now."

Bryn snorted bitterly and stated, "This is how I see things right now: I'm the Dragonborn, the Harbinger, thane in five holds, and the man I'm with refuses to marry me. It makes me look pathetic. It makes me like a fool." She saw the spark of fear in Vilkas' eyes at that. Good, he should be afraid. For all her complaints about no man wanting her, she knew damn well that if she walked down the street of any city she was known in with the Amulet of Mara around her neck that she would be besieged with offers, and not just from men. "This is what I was avoiding by avoiding you. Some part of me knew. That's why I gave the amulet to Farkas and didn't put it on that day, because I knew you'd turn me down."

"It isn't as if I never want to marry," he stated, trying to keep his voice steady. "Just not right now."

"When?" He looked away, not answering. Desperate, she cried, "Tell me I'm not just wasting my time, damn it! You want me to keep going on month after month, with no promise that at the end I'll get a husband and family out of it? Promise me that when I'm done with Alduin and the Thalmor we'll marry!"

"I can't promise you that. I said we would talk about it."

"You can't keep stringing me along like I'm some cheap barmaid, like I'm something you can enjoy part-time when it's convenient to you. If you don't want to marry me by now, you never will. I'll just keep getting older and older while you keep setting the timeline further and further out until I'm barren."

"I am not stringing you along!" he exclaimed. "How the hell can you think that? You know I love you, you idiot woman. I love you more than anything!"

"No, you do not, because if you did you would want to marry me, and you don't. It's not even that you want to and are afraid of it, you just don't want to. If you don't want to marry me, then you don't want me around forever. You don't want to be stuck with me permanently." Vilkas growled and ran his fingers back through his hair, closing his eyes. "I want a husband and a family. I thought I would be fine without it when we first came together, but I was naïve to ever think that. I suppose I should apologize. I was so glad just to have your attention that I thought I could live without marriage and children as long as I had you, and I was wrong. Maybe some part of me really thought you'd want to marry me some day."

"I never said I never wanted to marry you," he groaned in frustration. "Why aren't you listening to me?"

"And yet you can't promise me that someday you _will_ want to marry me." She shook her head and turned away to the door, exhausted. He kept going around and around in circles. "This Nord courtship thing really isn't at all what the Temple of Mara led me to believe. I give up."

As she opened the door to go back inside Vilkas said in a shaking voice, "So that's it then. You really are going to leave me this time." On the eve of Farkas' wedding, at that. His twin would be horrified. And extremely pissed off at Vilkas.

Astonished, Bryn stopped and turned to look at him. "I'm not leaving you! When did I say that?" The real fear and heartbreak on his face was terrible to see. She wasn't going to be responsible for that. As long as she loved him she didn't think she would ever have the strength to leave him. She feared though that it might get to the point someday where she wouldn't have to leave him for things to end, or her resentment would grow to the point where it would be stronger than the love. "When I said I gave up it meant I was done talking about it, that's all."

"God damn you," he choked, feeling a shudder of relief go through him. He crossed the short distance between them and pulled her against him, and when she finally gave in and relaxed against him with a sigh he whispered, "You scared the shit out of me, you little bitch." Bryn didn't answer, laying her head on his shoulder instead. "I _love_ you, damn it. I'm sorry it isn't how you want it, but…just give me time, all right? I don't want to lose you." He felt her nod and it made the last of the anxiety drain out of him, leaving him worn out. He supposed he was glad they had gotten this aired out, but it had been every bit as horrible as he had expected, if not worse. He hadn't really been afraid in Ysgramor's tomb that Bryn was leaving him, but this time he had been terrified of it, completely certain that it was over. He sniffed Bryn's hair, smelling lavender overlaid with the smoke of the forge.

"I need to wash," she mumbled against his shirt.

"If you get rid of the housecarl, I'll help you."

"Mm, that sounds nice."

"I thought we might go to the Bee and Barb after, for dinner."

"Also nice."

"I love you, Brynhilde."

Bryn lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes wide, not sure whether to laugh or not. He never said her full name, and in fact rarely even said the shortened version of it. She finally petted his cheek and answered quietly, "I love you, Vilkas."

"I am glad of that." The thought of her one day no longer loving him was unbearable. The thought of her passing through Whiterun or Jorrvaskr and not even looking at him was more than he could stomach. If it really came down to it, if he was forced to choose between marrying her or her leaving, he would have to marry her. Losing her was not an option. He hoped it never came to that, that he could get to the point of freely wanting marriage and a family with her on his own, however long that took. At least after today he could relax a bit, now that the dreaded discussion was out of the way. They would have to take the days as they came after that and see where it eventually led them.

* * *

The two couples watched Mjoll give Aela a tender kiss on the lips in parting, and Farkas grunted and muttered for the tenth time, "Really didn't see that one coming."

"Neither did I, but it's wonderful," Bryn said happily. The Lioness and the Huntress had hit it off spectacularly at the wedding party two nights ago and had spent the entire next day together. Bryn honestly hadn't had any idea that Mjoll was oriented that way and had actually thought she and Aerin were a couple, but Aerin had been completely unfazed by the budding romance, if anything seeming pleased by it. The whole thing was confusing, though sweet. She wondered if Aela had told Mjoll about her pregnancy; she hadn't told anyone else yet and was hiding her morning sickness well, though it was finally starting to taper off. Bryn thought it would be nice if Aela's daughter and Adrianne Avenicci's baby grew up with each other. The smith's child was due any day. Bryn hoped that she would be able to handle seeing the older women with children in their arms, while hers remained empty, with little hope of ever being filled.

Vilkas had been as sweet as pie to her the last several days, and it had been nice, but a sort of hopelessness had settled into Bryn's soul. He had held her hand tightly all through the wedding ceremony, and all she could think about was how she was never going to be the one standing up there. It made her feel like a fool, just as she had told him the other day during their argument. She was the Dragonborn, made to save the world, and she couldn't get this one damned man to marry her. She supposed it was idiotic of her to keep obsessing over this when she was supposed to be going about the business of growing her Voice so she could save the world. She and Lydia would be heading out in a few days for Falkreath Hold to continue that, but having her good friend and housecarl with her wouldn't help matters much. Bryn would see the Bond of Matrimony on her companion's finger and know Lydia was married and secure, and Bryn never would be.

Aela and the four junior Companions waved goodbye then headed down the road to return home; Vignar and Tilma had stayed behind, too elderly to make the trip. Farkas sighed then yanked Bryn away from Vilkas and wrapped his arms around her, saying happily, "This was the best couple of days I've ever had. Thank you, little bird." The wedding had been perfect. The celebration that night had been perfect. The next day, yesterday, his first as a married man, had been perfect. He had woken up next to Lydia in their room in the Bee and Barb, and she had smiled at him, and he couldn't believe she was finally his wife.

"You're welcome, big bear," she replied quietly. "I'm glad you two are happy." _Because__l never will be_, she added silently.

Farkas put his arm around Lydia, who hugged both of them tightly, and he grinned at his brother and wiggled his eyebrows. "Look at this, huh? This is how it's done."

"How what is done?" Vilkas retorted. "All I see is some brute strangling two poor women who have no choice in the matter."

"Jealous. That's sad." His brother snorted a laugh. He kept his arm around the two women as they headed back to the city gates. Bryn always found his touch comforting, and he could tell she was sad the last few days. She and Vilkas were still very affectionate with each other, in fact Vilkas seemed to be going out of his way to treat Bryn with extra care, but Farkas could still see the sadness in her eyes. Lydia had told him about confronting her outside Whiterun, how Bryn had wept that Vilkas would never marry her. Lydia had made him swear to stay out of the other couple's business, but it was hard. He knew that badgering Vilkas about marrying Bryn wouldn't get him anywhere anyway. The other two were getting along fine, so he left it alone.

"Hey, Dragonborn," said one of the guards. "Heard they're reforming the Dawnguard. Vampire hunters or something, in the old Fort Dawnguard to the East. Might consider joining up myself."

"Don't you dare," Vilkas warned her.

She sighed, "Believe me, I don't have the time." She smiled at the guard. "But thank you for the tip. I'll keep it in mind. I've heard the vampires are becoming a problem. I've been attacked myself a few times on the road."

The female guard on the other side said, "Nasty buggers. I've heard one scratch from a vampire can infect you. I hope that isn't true."

"Keep some cure disease potions on you at all times, and you'll never have to find out."

"Aye, true that. Still, 'twould be nice to have a fancy sword like yours, just in case."

Bryn patted Dawnbreaker. "I never go anywhere without it."

"Neither would I."

As they passed through the city gates, Lydia asked, "So, what are we doing today? We did the boat rides yesterday. The forests around here are beautiful. Maybe we could go for a long walk and have a picnic?"

"The south side of the lake is nice," Bryn offered, "near Snow-Shod Farm. We should gear up though. Bears and frostbite spiders—"

"Spiders?" Farkas said with worry.

Lydia smiled and put her arm through his, saying, "I'll protect you, husband."

He grinned at her and said, "I'm counting on it, wife." He saw Vilkas roll his eyes and make a face, and he reached out his other arm and lightly punched him in the ribs, making his brother laugh.

Half an hour later they were on the road that ran along the south side of the lake, and another twenty minutes after that were settled in a birch copse overlooking the lake and Goldenglow Estate. Vilkas built a small fire to warm themselves around; while The Rift was the warmest of Skyrim's holds, it was still wintertime and a nip was in the air. They laid out two bedrolls to sit on, each couple taking one, and were soon contentedly drinking mead and eating a light lunch of grilled leeks, goat cheese, bread and pheasant breast. It was relaxing and pleasant, with nowhere to rush off to, no other plans for the day.

After their meal, Farkas took a drink then said, "That Maven is a bitch, but she brews a good mead."

"It's Asgeir's doing more than hers," Bryn stated. "He oversees the operations and the brewing, while she takes care of the business side. In other words, the dirty work that he doesn't know about, or doesn't want to know about. It's a shame…he's a nice man. He's marrying the Emperor's cousin, did you know that?" Vilkas and Farkas shook their heads.

Lydia said with misgiving, "I hope he knows what he's getting into. I have my doubts about the cleanliness of Vittoria Vici's hands, or anyone else's at the East Empire Company." She glanced at Bryn and added, "We should get up to Solitude when we have the chance. I think we have enough coin to get the house there fully furnished."

Bryn nodded, saying, "I do feel bad about Jordis rattling around in a mostly empty house." Bryn found the layout of Proudspire Manor awkward, though it was a lovely home, and wished that she had more time to spend in Solitude. She liked the city, comfortable around Imperials and the Legion. Certainly more comfortable than she was around Stormcloaks, who seemed suspicious of everyone who wasn't a card-carrying member of their little club. Bryn wondered if at some point she should go to Castle Dour and have a chat with General Tullius, to feel him out a bit. If she absolutely had to, she would cast her lot with him, but she was going to make sure she didn't have to. That dossier she had found on Ulfric still wouldn't leave her mind.

Vilkas asked, "Where do you think you girls will go next after this?"

The housecarl motioned towards the road nearby. "We'll follow this into Falkreath and spend a few weeks there, maybe a month depending on how it goes. Then we'll come home for a bit and after that head back up to The Pale. After that…I hate to say it, but I have to wonder if it's worth dealing with Winterhold. There are so few people up there and the city itself nearly gone, and the Jarl there is nothing more than a vote in the moot anymore."

"Still, it wouldn't do to cause offense, and a vote is a vote," Bryn said. "And I want to get rid of those amulet fragments. I hope someone at the College will know what to do with them."

Vilkas put his arm around her and said wryly, "Just be careful Shouting up there, or the rest of the town might slide into the sea and the College with it."

"That might be a mercy," Farkas said.

"Maybe so. The place is desolate by anyone's standards, and I haven't been there in a number of years so it's no doubt worse now." Lydia excused herself to find a tree to relieve herself, Farkas going with her. Vilkas kissed Bryn, and she smiled and leaned against him. "I can see why you like it here," he stated. "You'll like Falkreath, I think. The forests aren't as open as this, but still beautiful."

"I don't remember much about it," she quietly said. "Only Helgen." He made a sound of sympathy and kissed the top of her head. "I wonder if Ulfric has nightmares about it. I don't very often anymore, but I wonder if he does, or Ralof and Hadvar, wherever they are."

"I think Ulfric's dreams consist mainly of putting a crown on his head and throwing everyone who isn't a Nord out of Skyrim." He shook his head and went on, "I'm not fond of Elves, but as long as they cause no trouble or harm I have no reason not to let them be. They work as hard as anyone else."

"Well, your reasons for disliking Elves are the same as his, except you were a tiny child, not a full-grown adult. The things he must have experienced were horrific, but surely he can see that not every mer is responsible." Vilkas grunted, having been told all about the dossier, though he had refused to read it himself. "I still carry the file with me everywhere, when I'm on the road…" She trailed off, seeing someone walking along the road, and murmured, "Speaking of which…" She saw bright blond hair, and it alarmed her until she realized that the Thalmor she usually saw always had their heads covered by a hood or helmet. And this person was alone.

Farkas and Lydia were on their way back as Vilkas and Bryn stood, then Bryn clapped her hands in surprised pleasure as the man came into view. He was a single Nord man in a gold-trimmed vest and tunic, carrying a lute on his back and a sword on his hip. The twins smiled at each other as Lydia ran out to get the Bard's attention. She came back with Talsgar the Wanderer, who all of them had seen in various places at various points in their travels.

"Ah, what luck," the Bard said in delight. "Now, surely there is a song somewhere in this…two esteemed members of the Companions' Circle, the Dragonborn Harbinger, and her trusty housecarl."

Vilkas said, "If anyone can craft a saga about a picnic, you can Talsgar. Are you on your way to Riften?"

"Aye, to guest for a day or two at the Bee and Barb then make my way north to Windhelm to play at Ulfric's court."

Bryn said, "We were just talking about Jarl Ulfric. Tell him hello for me when you see him."

He pulled the lute off his back and said, "Dear lady, I tell everyone I meet hello for you."

_Our hero, our hero claims a warrior's heart_  
_I tell you, I tell you the Dragonborn comes_  
_With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art_  
_Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes_  
_It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes_  
_Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes_  
_For the darkness has passed and the legend yet grows_  
_You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn's come_

Vilkas moved behind Bryn, putting his hands on her shoulders, and she tried not to sigh as she listened to the song that she despised more than any other. She never let on to any Bard that she hated the song; it wasn't wise to get on a Bard's bad side and end up the target of a scathing satire. She was nominally part of the Bard's College, after finding a Bard's remains and a lost verse about King Olaf in some ruin she was exploring; she had taken it to the College since it was right in Solitude, and after helping Headmaster Viarmo convince Jarl Elisif to allow the Burning of King Olaf Festival to continue they had named her a member of the College. It was ironic really, considering she couldn't sing or play an instrument to save her life, but she had learned a thing or two about speechcraft from one of the professors, and their library was unequaled anywhere in Skyrim other than the College of Winterhold. She enjoyed the company of the Bards, and they were next door neighbors to her house, so if she ever stayed there she would be able to hear music and singing in their courtyard.

They paid Talsgar well for his company and he continued on his way to Riften. The four packed up and put out the fire then walked up the road a bit further to the bridge that crossed the Treva River. It had been a perfect day in most respects, and Bryn hoped to make it a little more so. As the two couples stood together taking in the scenery, she said to Lydia and Farkas, "Since Farkas and Vilkas are going home tomorrow morning, I wanted to give you both my wedding gift before we go our separate ways."

Lydia sighed and shook her head, saying, "You've already done more than enough, my thane. The rings, the party, the room at the inn…really, it's enough." She glanced at Vilkas and he didn't seem surprised, and when she looked at her husband he seemed to already know as well. In fact Lydia seemed to be the only one who didn't know what was going on.

"Of course it isn't. You've done more for me than I can ever repay, but I want you to at least have this." She pulled an envelope out of her belt pouch and held it out to Lydia, who looked at it with worry and didn't take it. Bryn moved close to her and took her hand and put the envelope it in, saying with quiet intensity, "Please, take it. For me. This…this would make me happy."

"All right then," Lydia said with a nod, unable to help feeling that old pang of dread and foreboding. She opened the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She stared at the deed for a brief few seconds then let her hands fall, a tight expression on her face. "You're giving us Breezehome," she said in a tone of accusation. "Gods Bryn, you can't do that."

"I already did. The property is signed over to you as of the day you and Farkas married." Lydia stared at her with glistening eyes, looking almost angry. She stated quietly, "A married couple should have their own home to raise a family in. I'm never there, Lydia. I want you to have it, _need_ you to have it, to know that the house, and you, will always be taken care of."

"You're talking like you're dead already," the housecarl spat. "You and your damn fatalistic attitude!"

"When was the last time I slept there?" Lydia didn't answer. "If I had my way you would stop going out with me, and start your life with Farkas in earnest, but I know you won't allow that, and that's fine, and I'm glad you'll be with me. At least now if anything happens to me you have the house."

"And what the hell would kill you that won't take me out too!" she squawked.

Bryn frowned at her and asked, "Why are you so angry?"

"Because since the day I met you, you've acted like you're dying." Bryn didn't deny it, and when Lydia looked at Vilkas he had a sad, resigned expression on his face. He wasn't any better; Lydia knew damn well that one of the reasons Vilkas wouldn't marry Bryn was because he was afraid she would die when the time came to face Alduin. It was an idiotic reason, something that instead should have spurred him to marry her, but it was his reason whether he fully admitted it or not. Lydia looked at her husband, and Farkas sighed heavily.

"It would make her happy, punkin," Farkas stated. "That should be all that matters." Lydia made a sound of exasperation and rubbed her eyes with one hand, and Farkas took the deed and envelope from her, folding it and sliding it back inside then putting it inside the front of his doublet inside his armor. He smiled at Bryn and petted her hair. "Thank you, little sister. We're grateful for your gift," he said sincerely. He kissed her forehead then pulled her close. "Besides, how many houses do you really need? You've got three others. Spread the wealth around." She laughed and Lydia sputtered, still upset. Lydia wasn't really angry, but her worry and sorrow usually turned to anger as her way of managing it. She would come around eventually and be glad of the gift. And Bryn was right that she never slept there anymore, and hadn't since becoming Harbinger, while Farkas usually did. Farkas and Lydia always slept together in what was supposed to be Bryn's bed, and what did Lydia think that meant?

Bryn asked him, "Will you check on the house while we're gone?"

"Of course I will." He wasn't sleeping there alone without his Lydia, and Bryn likely knew that by her question. Farkas was fairly certain that before too much longer Bryn would finally just let Lydia go. Farkas wasn't sure how that would work, since the position of housecarl was usually a lifelong thing, granted by the Jarl. Lydia was right that Bryn had always had this sad, fatalistic air about her, and Vilkas had done very little to alleviate that, and Bryn would figure since she would never be happy that Lydia might as well be. Farkas appreciated that, sad as it was, and knew better than to argue Bryn out of it. No one could. Seeing Lydia happily married, and someday with children, would please Bryn, and maybe Bryn even thought she could somehow live vicariously through Lydia, who knew. Either way, Farkas wasn't going to fuss about it. Someday Lydia would let go and stop fussing about it too, but it was anyone's guess when that would be.


	23. Chapter 23

"My Jarl."

Balgruuf's breath caught as a shadow detached itself from the statue of Talos above him. The Dragonborn's pale face and golden eyes caught the light of the candles set around the altar, but the rest of her was like a living shadow. He climbed to his feet and whispered angrily, "What are you trying to do, stop my damn heart!"

"I'm sorry, but I wanted to speak to you privately," Bryn said in apology. "No guards, no Irileth." It bothered her a bit that he was out here alone like this. She hadn't expected him to leave Dragonsreach when she was readying herself to sneak up there and into his quarters, so she had followed him down the hill to here.

Balgruuf frowned deeply and muttered, "Tell me that isn't Dark Brotherhood gear you're wearing."

"Yes, it is, and no, I am not a member, nor will I be. I took it off an assassin several months ago. This is the first time I've tried it, actually." That khajiit had been the last member they had sent after her. Either Maven had wised up or the Brotherhood was running out of assassins. She had heard rumors that they weren't what they used to be. Well, whatever they might have been, they were crap now if the skills of those sent after her were any indication. Vilkas would have thrown a fit to see her in the leathers and didn't know she possessed a set, but he was on a job in Hjaalmarch with Torvar and Njada for several days. That was fine. She missed him a great deal, and she loved the time they spent together, but it was hard to sustain a relationship on a few days a month together when there was little hope of reward at the end of it all. He behaved as if everything were perfectly fine, as if they could keep going on like this forever. He was sweet to her, and she adored him, but if she went to face Alduin without a proposal from him she supposed she would finally have to summon up the courage to wear the amulet herself. If she was going to have the courage to face the World Eater, she had to have the guts to ask a man to marry her. And if he said no, or put her off again, and she lived past destroying Alduin…well, he'd had all the time he could ask for to make a decision about her. She wouldn't leave him; she just wouldn't come back.

"Very sneaky, Dragonborn. I can't say I care for it. Why was it necessary to ambush me out here in the middle of the night?"

"Because I need to talk to you about your son, Nelkir, and I'd rather no one heard what I have to say."

The Jarl took a deep breath then let it out, seeming to deflate. "Ah, yes."

"He is a very troubled child, my Jarl."

"Yes, which is why I asked you to talk to him and get to the root of it. The boy won't talk to me, or his siblings." He sat down on the stone wall near the shrine, and Bryn silently moved down to stand before him, then sat when he patted the wall next to him. "I appreciate you looking into this, my friend," he said sincerely. "The other two, they're simply spoiled, but Nelkir… He's always been a quiet, introspective child, but lately…he frightens me, I'll admit. I've seen him watching me with murder in his eyes."

Bryn sighed and said, "He did talk to me, rather honestly actually. Some of his problem seems to be simple hurt and resentment that has fed on itself. He knows he has a different mother than your other children." Balgruuf sighed and folded his arms, nodding. "He knows you secretly worship Talos and hate the Thalmor nearly as much as the Stormcloaks do." She didn't add the part about Balgruuf being afraid of being run out of his own city, or the child referring to him by his first name instead of 'Father'. There was no point in doing so.

"So he's been sneaking about the palace then? Eavesdropping?"

"Yes, but it's more than that. He told me about a door in the basement-"

"Ah, merciful Divines, no," Balgruuf choked, putting his hands over his eyes.

"Yes. I listened at the door. The Whispering Lady spoke to me. Mephala. I told her I had no interest in helping her and that she would find me much less malleable than a little boy. I think she has taken whatever was already bothering your son and has been feeding it. If we remove whatever is in that room perhaps it would help."

"What is in that room is best left undisturbed."

"So you know what it is, then."

"Aye, I do. My family has guarded it for nearly two hundred years, and the door has stayed sealed by blood just as long. It is the Ebony Blade, an artifact of Mephala, the Daedric prince of deceit." He laughed bitterly. "How fitting."

"Can it be destroyed?"

"No, that has been tried. Even the hottest fire of the Skyforge could not melt it down, in fact the fires began to cool when the blade touched it. All one can do is hide it, guard it."

"It will continue to haunt your child until it's removed. If this goes on long enough…I don't know what Nelkir will become capable of under that kind of influence, especially as he grows older. He's…what, eight?"

"Nine next month."

"Imagine a moody teenager under its influence."

Balgruuf made a sound of horror and asked in a shaking voice, "What do you suggest?"

"I'm going to High Hrothgar after Vilkas returns. I've been putting off some business there for a while. Maybe they'll have an idea what to do with it. They don't seem particularly corruptible, so maybe I'll leave it with them, or barring that just carry it myself until I figure out how to get rid of it permanently." The Jarl slowly shook his head at the last idea, and she shrugged and said, "I've dealt with three other Daedric princes in the last year with little consequence. I doubt I'll have issues toting around the Ebony Blade as long as I don't use it."

"Three. I didn't know, other than Meridia."

"I also carry Azura's Star, and won Hircine's Ring, though of course it's useless to me since I'm not a werewolf." She had actually given the ring to Aela, who had been thrilled with the gift. "Oh, and that horrid Wabbajack from Sheogorath. I hid it under my bed in Solitude. So four." Balgruuf's eyebrows rose and his expression became a bit less hopeless. "If you don't want me to take it, then we should bring Vigilants of Stendarr here to look at the situation, maybe re-consecrate the door. That might quiet it for another two hundred years." At that he brightened and nodded. She hesitated then put her hand on his arm, and he glanced at her in surprise then smiled and put his hand over hers.

"You've been a good friend," Balgruuf stated.

"That's kind of you to say, my lord. I've tried, with the limited time I have."

"And I appreciate that." He sighed, "You know, I love my children, but some days I wish my brother had been the older one. He's not suited to the task, but still… My marriage to my wife, Anghilde, was one of convenience and station, something I felt I had to do as Jarl to ensure the stability of my hold. I came to care for her, eventually, but she never really warmed to me, or the children, and I don't blame her for that. Gaelle… she was a Breton servant here, who helped Anghilde with the children. She was always kind, always patient with Frothar and Dagny. My wife was too busy spending my coin to pay attention to me or the children, and well…things happened. Gaelle was more a wife to me in the year and a half we were together than Anghilde ever was, and Anghilde didn't care, in fact she seemed relieved if anything. Gaelle died giving birth to Nelkir. This was before Danica came to Whiterun. I could hardly stand to look at the boy for a good three years after he was born, and I still blame myself for that. I shouldn't have taken my grief out on him, by neglecting him, and by time I realized my error… Gods, I hope it isn't too late."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Brynhilde whispered, near tears.

He patted her hand. "Don't be. I tormented myself those first few years after she died, wondering if Mara took her from me as punishment for betraying my wedding vows, but Mara doesn't work that way. Mara gave Gaelle to me as a gift, to enjoy while I could, to show me what real love felt like. I've prayed to her often enough over the years to know that there's only so much she can do. Anghilde drifted away over time and went her own way, and frankly the children don't miss her, and neither do I. She writes occasionally, from Bruma, and sends gifts on the children's birthdays, even Nelkir's."

"Do you really think Mara answers prayers?"

The sorrowful question made him look at the girl, and she was staring at the young Gildergreen with a forlorn expression on her face. "I think she tries. I prayed to her that I'd never fall in love again, and I can say with complete honesty that she certainly answered that one, or has so far."

"Oh." What a terrible thing to wish, though she supposed it would grant a certain peace. For all her sadness and regret and hurt over Vilkas, the Jarl's grief over the death of his beloved had to be a thousand times worse.

"Something tells me you've done praying of your own."

"Oh yes. Every time I go to Riften. I've done everything her priests and priestesses have asked of me and then some. I've prayed and prayed." She sighed heavily as he made a sound of sympathy, no doubt knowing full well what the problem was, though she had never come out and told him. "Maybe she thinks I already have enough. Thane in every hold but Ulfric's. More houses than I can visit, more gold than I can spend, more friends than I can count, more power than I can handle. For some that would be more than enough, but all I wanted was a husband and children. Skyrim has given me everything except what I came here for."

Feeling sorry for her, the Jarl nodded at the statue behind them and said with forced lightness, "Maybe it's only that _he_ got first dibs on you, eh?" Bryn burst into laughter then put her hand over her mouth, making him chuckle. He grew serious once again as he stood; he had to get back before Irileth realized he was gone and hunted him down and dragged him back to Dragonsreach. "So, Ulfric. You've been avoiding Windhelm all along, I take it?"

"So far, yes, and most of Eastmarch." She put her arm through the Jarl's to walk him back home, not entirely trusting that his own city was perfectly safe. "It's another reason I wanted to talk to you, my Jarl. About Lydia. Before I go to Eastmarch."

"I heard you gave her and her husband Breezehome as a wedding gift. It was generous."

"I want to release her from my service." Balgruuf seemed unfazed by the request. "Not to sound callous, but her presence has become…superfluous, I guess. If she can't be released from my service I'm going to have to simply order her to stay home."

"No, she can't be released from your service," he said with regret. Bryn sighed and nodded. "That isn't how it's done. Housecarl is a lifelong position, ending either when you die or she does."

"I see."

"If you order her to stay here and live in the house you gave her and enjoy married life and have children, well, I suppose she would have to do that."

Bryn relaxed and nodded again. "All right. Thank you, Jarl Balgruuf. I didn't know what to do. I want her and Farkas to be happy."

"And you want her to live the life you can't?" It wasn't really a question but a statement. Bryn lunched with him at least once during her times home in Whiterun, usually just the two of them, in the small dining room in his apartments so they could talk somewhat freely, so he knew full well her many regrets. So many would have traded everything they had to live the life she did, but it wasn't the life she had asked for.

"Yes, that is exactly so, my Jarl."

"I imagine she will be rather upset when you order her to do that. She's very devoted to you."

"And me to her. I love her as a sister, and I trust her more than anyone I've ever known, but…it has to end, and now is a good time. It's been a year since Helgen, since Alduin showed up. I've traveled nearly every inch of Skyrim and killed…gods, what is it now, forty, fifty dragons? It's to the point where it's getting tiresome. Everything is. I'm going to talk to the Greybeards about how to finish this, on my way to Eastmarch."

"Where you intend to yank Ulfric's chain, I hope." Bryn grinned at him and wiggled her eyebrows, making Balgruuf laugh. "Ah, good. I suppose it's too much to hope that you'll simply chop off his head and put an end to all this." There had been no major battles but the skirmishes seemed to never end, and it was slowly bleeding Skyrim dry. Balgruuf and Ulfric were fairly close in age and had never really liked each other, though they had always respected each other; lately that was turning into animosity on Balgruuf's part as he tired of Ulfric's attempts to sway him to his side of the conflict.

"I'm trying to avoid that."

"Why?"

"I feel sorry for him."

He exclaimed, "Shor's Bones, why?" He didn't get his answer as the front door to Dragonsreach burst open and a disheveled Irileth came out in her nightshirt and bare feet, sword in hand. Her blood-red eyes fastened on Bryn then her nostrils flared. Irileth had never gotten all that comfortable with Bryn, seeming to distrust the girl's motives, unable to believe that she was content to be the Jarl's friend and nothing more. Balgruuf found it laughable that the Dragonborn would want his throne. A woman with her power could be High Queen of Skyrim if she really wanted to rule. And as for any other interest Bryn might have in him, well, he knew how he compared to the Companion who enjoyed her attentions. Irileth's protectiveness was touching though. The Dunmer woman watched over him like a mother sabre cat over her cubs. In fact if he hadn't known better he would think Irileth was jealous of Bryn.

"You!" Irileth said furiously. "Unhand the Jarl immediately!"

"It isn't how it looks, Irileth," Balgruuf joked, unable to help finding the situation amusing.

"I should run you through," the Dunmer said to Bryn, ignoring the Jarl. "How dare you accompany the Jarl dressed like an assassin!"

Bryn let go of the Jarl and said with a straight face, "The Jarl has been unhanded. I apologize. But you… um, right there…" She motioned at Irileth's hair, and the housecarl reached up and pulled a goose feather out of her hair that must have come from a pillow. A guard snickered and immediately found the tip of the sword at his throat. Bryn had to admit that Irileth had beautiful hair when it was unbound, falling around her bare, dusky face in loose red waves. She glanced at the Jarl and even he seemed taken aback by his housecarl's mussed appearance and bare legs, which Bryn thought were rather shapely, and in the cold air her nipples were patently obvious through the thin cloth. Balgruuf blinked then cleared his throat and looked away, blushing slightly, then his eyes traveled back to her. _Ah_, Bryn thought with sad pleasure. She was an Agent of Mara and couldn't help wanting others to fall in love and be happy, and do whatever she could to aid the process; maybe Mara had listened through Bryn, now that the Jarl had finally unburdened himself to her. Maybe after nine years of grief and loneliness the Jarl might find comfort again, where he had least expected it, with Mara's blessing. Unfortunately she had no such hope for herself.

* * *

Bryn grumbled to herself as she neared the peak of the mountain, her legs aching and lungs burning. She probably should have rested a bit longer after climbing the Seven Thousand Steps before that but hadn't expected this to take so long, and she still felt guilty about riling Master Arngeir, albeit unintentionally. She supposed climbing a mountain was never easy no matter the circumstances. Unfortunately the long period of time it required gave her too much time to think, to reflect. She hoped Lydia forgave her the next time she saw her, whenever that would be. Her housecarl had been absolutely livid with Bryn for basically releasing her from service. Bryn had tried a number of ways to convince Lydia to stay in Whiterun, none of them successful, and finally had ordered her to not follow Bryn the next time she left town. Lydia had glared at her with wet eyes, no longer bothering to argue with her. The housecarl had known then that it was the end. Bryn kissed her cheek and Lydia looked ready to punch her, nearly in tears, which wasn't like her at all.

Bryn had walked out Whiterun's gates and hadn't looked back. She had paused outside Warmaiden's to listen to tiny Magni War-Bear crying then the gentle rumble of Ulfberth's voice as he soothed his son, but once she left Whiterun she hadn't looked back. In fact if it weren't for her responsibilities there she thought she might never go back. The place was too painful for her now. Seeing the War-Bears' baby was too painful. Watching Aela's belly grow was too painful. Seeing Farkas and Lydia's wedded happiness was too painful. Hearing Vilkas tell her how much he loved her was the most painful of all. How could he make such sweet, intense love to her and tell her afterwards how he would die for her, and yet refuse to marry her? When she had told him she was finally heading to High Hrothgar to ask Arngeir about the Shout to take down Alduin he had stared at her with wide, almost frightened eyes and had asked if she was really sure she was ready; she was. He'd said surely she had more Shouts to find; she did, but they were in Eastmarch, probably. She had sought out every master trainer she could find in her chosen proficiencies, and they had nothing more to teach her. Even Eorlund didn't; with Farkas assisting, the two of them had finally figured out how to work dragon scale and bone and had fashioned a shield, and that day she had finally seen real joy light up the old smith's face. Bryn certainly was good at making people happy. She made everyone happy except herself.

Bryn took a deep breath and shouted "_LOK VAH KOOR!_" one last time to clear the dangerous fog blocking her way, then she breathed a sigh of relief to see a word wall and the peak: the Throat of the World. It was the highest point in Skyrim, and all of Tamriel. She paused there, looking for a building, a little hut, something that would house a reclusive monk, and there was nothing. She sighed heavily, tired and irritable, about ready to simply leave and go to Riften for a while. In Riften things were quiet and no one demanded anything of her, the house warm and comfy and the housecarl unobtrusive. The thought however of walking all the way back down to the monastery, then down all those steps, made her feel like crying. Then it made her think of Farkas and Vilkas joking about sledding all the way down, and that also made her feel like crying.

The flap of dragon wings and a roar made her sigh and pull out her ebony bow, but the sight of the dragon coming toward her made her hesitate. It was enormous, the biggest she had seen other than Alduin. It looked tattered and ancient, bleached and gray, like an old flag left flapping in the wind, then Bryn nearly smacked her forehead in realization as she put the bow away. _Paar-thur-nax_. The leader of the Greybeards had a very dragon-like name, in the usual three parts. He came to land in front of her and she bowed deeply, hoping she was right and not about to get snapped up in the massive jaws, ones that seemed to be missing half their teeth. She had never seen a dragon that looked so weathered, but then if he had been living at the top of this mountain for a few thousand years she supposed he would.

"_Drem Yol Lok_," the voice thundered, making her very bones shake. "Greetings, _wunduniik_. I am Paarthurnax. Who are you? What brings you to my _strunmah_…my mountain?"

"I am Brynhilde," she stated, trying to sound as strong and confident as possible, while inside her guts were like jelly. To be finally holding a conversation with a dragon…it nearly made her feel like weeping. It eased a loneliness in her that she hadn't realized the root of until this moment: she had the soul of a dragon and had been missing the company of her own kind. Or something like that. She supposed she had spent a great deal of time around dragons, making them dead. "I am Dragonborn, Master."

"Ahh," Paarthurnax said in curious delight. "So it is you whose _thu'um_ I have heard echoing from every corner of this land for the last year."

"Yes. I…I'm sorry, but I wasn't expecting you to be a dragon." Though it made a terrible kind of sense that he was.

"I am as my father Akatosh made me. As are you, Dovahkiin. Tell me. Why do you come here, _volaan_? Why do you intrude on my meditation?"

Wary of his reaction, Bryn hesitated. Arngeir had gotten extremely upset when she had brought this up, and it seemed a dragon could only get angrier. She finally said, "I need to learn the Dragonrend shout. Can you teach me?"

"_Drem_. Patience, child," he said calmly. "There are formalities which must be observed, at the first meeting of two of the _dov_. By long tradition, the elder speaks first." He thundered, "Hear my _thu'um_! Feel it in your bones! Match it, if you are Dovahkiin!" Bryn braced herself and he turned his head away towards the word wall, which she now realized was blank. He took a deep breath then Shouted a torrent of fire at the stone. When the flames died down he motioned with his massive head toward the word of power now glowing there. "The Word calls you. Go to it."

Bryn nodded, her heart racing, and walked toward the word, seeing that instead of the usual glowing blue that it was similar to how the Greybeards had first taught her, and how they had recently taught her Clear Skies. The word was absorbed into her understanding, the final piece of Fire Breath.

"A gift, Dovahkiin," the dragon stated. "_Yol_. Understand Fire as the _dov_ do." Bryn gasped as Paarthurnax gifted her with his understanding of the word _SHUL_ as the Greybeards did. He demanded, "Now, show me what you can do. Greet me not as mortal, but as _dovah_!"

She nearly asked if he was sure, if he really wanted her to Shout fire at him, but he surely knew what he was asking. She grimaced then shouted at him, "_YOL TOOR SHUL!_"

The fire rolled harmlessly off the ancient dragon, and he cried in delight, "Aaah…yes! _Sossedov los mul_. The dragonblood runs strong in you. It is long since I had the pleasure of speech with one of my own kind!" He leapt up from the ground and wheeled happily in the air, making a few turns before coming to land again on the lip of the word wall.

Bryn went to stand below him and said haltingly, "But…I can't speak in the dragon language—"

"A shout is dragon speech, _kiir_."

"But I would like to know the entire language, Master Paarthurnax. If I am one of your kind, should I not know the language? Why can't I understand it?"

The dragon said in an amused tone, "Not even birds, Dovahkiin, are born already knowing their song. You are young. Grow your Voice, and the rest will follow."

"Except the Dragonrend Shout."

"Ah, yes," he said carefully, angling his head to see her more clearly. He studied the mortal girl, finding her terribly interesting after so many centuries of conversing with males, mostly elderly males. While the Greybeards without exception were somber in dress and reserved in demeanor, this woman, this Dragonborn, thrummed with barely suppressed energy, fidgeting slightly as she did her best to wait and be respectful of him, as was proper in a young _dovah_. Her golden eyes glowed from within, and in her green and gold armor she was a spot of color and vibrancy in a world of unrelenting white and gray. Young Talos, Tiber Septim, had been an interesting specimen as well, but this one was different. Tiber Septim had been hungry, ambitious, though also respectful, and confident in his power. This Dragonborn though… she was a hunter, a predator, a dragon killer, her Voice greater than Tiber Septim's had ever been. She had been feeding on the souls of _dov_ for a year, as Tiber Septim never had been able to, and Paarthurnax had been listening to her Shouting across the land the entire time, the echoes reaching him even in the depths of his meditation. And this child's fate was so much more terrible than Tiber Septim's had ever been.

"I was expecting this," he finally said. "Alduin and Dovahkiin return together." She nodded slowly and looked away, her shoulders drooping, and he felt a touch of sympathy, no easy thing for his kind, not even for him. The child radiated sorrow and resignation, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Tiber Septim had relished his nature, prideful of it to an extent that both Paarthurnax and the Greybeards had found troubling. This Brynhilde seemed to accept it with a fatalistic weariness. Well, perhaps that was a good thing. Pride, ambition, cruelty…these things came naturally to _dov_. Perhaps this child's reticence would keep her from falling victim to her inborn nature. If not, well, she would have to survive facing Alduin for that to be a valid concern.

* * *

Bryn stood over the old woman's bed, listening to her raspy breathing, and wondered if she was making a terrible mistake. This was the kind of thing she hadn't done before, something that no one close to her would approve of. She didn't know what else to do though. She had passed by Honorhall Orphanage earlier today to pay her respects to Jarl Laila, her first day back in Riften since Farkas and Lydia's wedding months ago, and she had heard children crying, and as she'd moved close to the building's walls she'd heard the crack of leather and a child's screams. She had immediately entered the Orphanage and Grelod had hurried out, acting as if nothing was amiss, while Constance was in the corner cradling a weeping boy, and it had been all Bryn could do to not to Shout the woman apart right then and there. Both women. Constance could have put a stop to all this by going to the Jarl long ago, and like a coward she hadn't. It seemed obvious the young woman cared for the children, but not enough to stand up to Grelod.

The memory refreshing her nerve, Bryn made sure the mask covered her face and leaned over Grelod and put a gloved hand over her mouth. The old woman came awake with a whimper, her eyes wide in the light of the single candle Bryn had lit by her bed. "Grelod the Unkind," Bryn said slowly, making her voice as menacing as possible. "The Dark Sacrament has been performed for you." Grelod shuddered in fright. "You've terrorized these children long enough, old woman." She held a knife in front of Grelod's face, with absolutely no intention of using it, and drew breath to continue, to offer to spare the old woman's life in exchange for her promise to never lay a hand on the children again, when suddenly Grelod stiffened, her eyes rolling up in her head. Bryn took her hand away in dismay and the old woman let out a strangled cry then went limp. Bryn stared in horror, refusing to believe what had just happened. She pulled off a glove and felt along the wrinkled neck, and there was nothing. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't supposed to happen!

She flinched as she heard sounds of confusion in the main room, the children wakened by Grelod's cry, and she put out the candle then leapt off the bed and slid into the corner behind the wardrobe, her heart hammering. She stayed there as a boy crept into the room, then another, and she bit her lip waiting for the children to start panicking as they realized Grelod was dead. Her eyes widened as the first boy poked Grelod with his finger then let out a whoop of joy and started jumping up and down, and suddenly all the children were cheering and hugging each other. She stayed there for several minutes, barely breathing, feeling numb disbelief sink into her. She had killed the old woman. She had frightened the crone to death. She had murdered her as surely as if she'd slit her throat, in fact that might have been a kindness.

Constance Michel came running into the room and gasped, her hand over her mouth, and one of the boys said in a tone of pure happiness, "When Aventus took off, when he said those things, about killing Grelod... I never imagined he was serious..."

The little girl said in response, "Aventus really did it! He got the Dark Brotherhood to kill old Grelod!"

"We love you, Dark Brotherhood!" another boy cheered. "Thank you, Aventus!"

"Children, please," Constance said in a shaking voice. She couldn't help being glad either, but it wasn't right to celebrate anyone's death. The children gathered around her and she hugged them close, saying, "I know Grelod was cruel, but we should be respectful. Not one more word about that Aretino boy. It couldn't have been the Dark Brotherhood. There isn't a mark on her."

"I don't care," a third boy said. "When Aventus escaped, Grelod got meaner than ever. I really thought she was going to kill one of us. Guess not!"

The girl said sagely, "Kill one person, and you can solve so many problems. I wonder at the possibilities."

Constance gasped then said firmly, "All right, children. Everyone back to bed. No more talk of Aventus, Grelod or the Dark Brotherhood. We'll…I'll, deal with all this in the morning."

"Yes Miss Constance," they chimed brightly.

"And in the morning I'm cooking everyone a big breakfast."

"Yay!" they cheered as they filed out of the room.

"What's breakfast?" one of the boys whispered.

Bryn let out a long, silent breath as the children left the room, her guilt fading. She hadn't touched the old woman with a weapon, but the crone had laid her own hands on the children in violence with horrid regularity, to the point where they feared she would someday end up killing one of them. She watched Constance light the candle by the bed then go to Grelod's desk to quickly scoop up the coins there. Bryn would give things a chance to settle down here then she would come by with a very large donation and a basket of food. She hadn't imagined the children weren't even getting breakfast. It angered her that Jarl Laila wasn't overseeing things here at all. Honorhall was the only orphanage in Skyrim, since most children were taken in by family or neighbors when parents died, and if it was in Laila's city then it was her responsibility to make sure it was run properly.

While Constance was occupied, Bryn took the opportunity to slip out of the room, but she didn't make it to the bedroom door before she heard a gasp. She glanced at the young woman to see her staring at her in terror. Thankfully Bryn's face was covered, but her eyes were not, and they were distinctive. She cursed her clumsiness and quickly looked away as she hurried out of the Orphanage, luckily without alerting any of the children, or the guards. She moved in the shadows down to the canal level then around and came up near Honeyside, and was able to silently get into the house and out of the leathers without waking Iona downstairs. She carefully folded the gear and put it in a sack then stowed it under the bed. She would be able to come to terms with what she did soon enough. As for the Aretino boy, she would have to look in on him once she reached Windhelm, which she planned to do next week. If there had been a reason to send him to the Orphanage before, surely that reason still existed and he wasn't being cared for properly, and something told her Ulfric wasn't doing any better a job at managing his city than Laila was doing.

She put on her nightclothes and slid into bed, though she was unable to sleep, her mind churning restlessly. Grelod had been every bit as evil and sadistic as any bandit Bryn had come across, worse even for tormenting children who had been entrusted to her care. She would lose no sleep over that, but she still couldn't relax, worried that Constance Michel had recognized her from her eyes and would report her to the guard. Even if she did, Bryn would be able to pay off any bounty that was incurred and be free to go on her way, unless Maven stepped in.

Bryn shook her head and rolled onto her side, refusing to let herself worry about it. She would handle whatever came of it as she did everything else and move on. What she couldn't help worrying about was everything else. Alduin. Paarthurnax. Lydia and Farkas. Vilkas. The Companions. Jarl Balgruuf. Her conversation with the ancient draconic leader of the Greybeards had weighed heavily on her for the last several days since she had talked to him. She had told him that she didn't want the world to end, which he had found acceptable, and he had told her that perhaps she was balanced against those who sought to bring about the end of the world. She couldn't help wondering if that was the Thalmor but hadn't asked. Really, it didn't matter. She had asked for the wise dragon's guidance and he had helped her meditate on _Fus_, after telling her about the Elder Scroll. She hadn't been able to even contemplate going after it, and had instead climbed to the very peak of the Throat of the World, the highest point in all of Tamriel, maybe all of Nirn, and had sat there for nearly an hour, letting her mind go blank, feeling the intense chill whip around her. She had found a strange, notched pickaxe of all things up there, and several veins of ore, but it would have felt bizarre to simply start mining up there, and so she had left it all untouched. It had been peaceful, looking in all directions over Skyrim, though she was up so high that she couldn't really pick out any landmarks. She could understand how Paarthurnax had felt completely detached from everything going on below for so long.

As she had sat up there she had felt the temptation to simply give it all up, to put her life behind her and stay in High Hrothgar with the Greybeards forever, to study the Way of the Voice with Paarthurnax. The urge hadn't lasted long. Alduin would keep raising dragons, the Civil War would continue, the Thalmor would keep working their machinations. It would be incredibly selfish of her to turn her back on everything, and everyone. There were too many people she loved to let them die of her neglect. She wanted whatever children Lydia and Farkas had to be born into a world that was orderly and safe, where folk were free to worship who they wanted and no race felt superior to another. She had no hope for herself, but she would do whatever she thought necessary to make the lives of others happier, more comfortable, more secure and yet more free. And so she had done tonight by giving the children of Honorhall Orphanage a new lease on life. And so she would continue doing. Such was her purpose in life, beyond defeating Alduin.

Bryn's thoughts trailed off, and the lap of the waters of the lake against the stone foundation of her house eventually lulled her to sleep. In her dreams she flew above Skyrim, borne on cold winds and dragon wings, free and perfectly happy as she almost never was, rising above petty concerns and ambitions, and when she tired she landed at the top of a mountain and held _tinvaak_ with others of her kind, speaking their language freely, the _strunmah_ trembling with the thunder of it. She had never had a dream like it before, and when she awoke she grasped for the words but they slipped away, though she could feel them hovering just out of reach. She huffed in frustration and stared at the ceiling, well rested but soul weary. She would just have to study the tongue with the Greybeards, when all was said and done, if that day ever came. All the masters but Arngeir spoke only the dragon tongue, unable to control their Voices, only Arngeir old enough and powerful enough to have brought his back under control. She hoped to Talos that such a thing never happened to her; she already had to be careful not to yell in a temper or her Voice thundered. She couldn't imagine how terrible it would be to try to go about her business, live her life, with her every word shaking everything around her.

She heard Iona's door open downstairs, and Bryn hauled herself out of bed and went to the back door to open it and let some fresh air in. It was drizzling softly, making the world gray, but it was still lovely, soothing. For not the first time Bryn wished she could stay here. The house was quiet, the countryside beautiful beyond compare. She hadn't liked Falkreath as much as she loved The Rift. She preferred the gold and white birch forests to the towering firs and pines. Maybe once she defeated Alduin she could come back here permanently.

The thought didn't pain her as much as she had expected it to. She knew Vilkas would always find some reason not to marry her. She had left the matter alone, even at mid-winter, which had been her previous date to ask him herself. The Jarl had held a party and she had finally danced with her beloved, and the night had been too perfect to mar, and she had already given up by then anyway. She was absolutely determined though to ask him before facing Alduin. She had to know for sure that he wouldn't say yes, completely and without doubt. If he said yes it would change everything, but she was certain he wouldn't, and so she had to plan for that. If she went after Alduin with no betrothal, and if she lived, she simply wouldn't return to Whiterun. That city had always felt most like home to her, but she would just have to find a new home, or rotate her time amongst the other three she had. She would tell Vilkas before she left that he was Harbinger, since he was now capable of handling it, with no beastblood clouding his judgment or heating his temper to unmanageable levels. He would probably be quite upset when she told him she wasn't coming back, but he would get over it. People could get over almost anything, and in time she and Vilkas would get over each other. He would eventually find some woman who was content to be a part-time convenience to him, or he would grow old alone in the ranks of the Companions as Vignar was, as Kodlak had, with his brother's family there to comfort him in his old age the way the Gray-Manes did Vignar. And Bryn…well, if she lived, she had a long road to walk before she let herself get infatuated with any man again.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Thank you again H(guest) for your kind review. Sign up for an account and I'll PM you, which I try to do for everyone who takes the time to comment on the story. I really appreciate it.**

"I would gladly retire from the world, were such a day to dawn."

"Aye, but in the meantime we have a war to plan."

Ulfric nodded and leaned back in his throne as Galmar walked back to the planning room. He resisted the urge to rub his eyes wearily, knowing it would make him look weak. Engaging in debate with his housecarl, his general and closest friend, always drained him. Galmar saw everything in black and white, his worldview blessedly simple. If only it were really that simple. _Nothing_ was ever that simple.

He sighed and glanced over at Jorleif, his steward, another good friend who had the fortune to live his life without complications, without doubt, and felt a shock run through him to see a warrior standing next to the steward, staring at him, or so he assumed, the eyes hidden behind a bronze mask the likes of which he had never seen. It looked to be a woman, though a damn tall one, wearing glass armor. He had seen plenty of that Elven armor in his youth, and the sight of it made his blood boil. The woman murmured something to Jorleif then turned on her heel and strode out of the hall, her footsteps eerily silent, and Ulfric watched her go, feeling deeply unsettled. He nearly called out for the guards to stop her, but he had no real reason to do so other than curiosity and a rather bad feeling.

Once she was gone he murmured, "Jorleif. A word with you."

"Aye, my Jarl," he answered, hurrying over.

Ulfric motioned him close, sound carrying incredibly well in the hall. "That woman, who and what was she?" he asked quietly.

"Ah, just some adventurer looking to make some coin. She arrived in Windhelm a couple days ago, took care of some bandits at Lost Knife Hideout for Brunwulf. She's offering to help with the murders."

Ulfric frowned deeply. "You're telling me there have been more? What are the guards doing about it?"

"They're doing the best they can, Ulfric. We're stretched thin, you know that."

"Aye. Well, if she can do something about it she will be rewarded handsomely." And if she was a High Elf, with the nerve to wear that armor in his sight, then she would be told to leave his city right after the bag of coin hit her palm.

"Yes, well…" Jorleif cleared his throat and glanced into the war room. He lowered his voice to nearly a whisper then added, "She got into a brawl with Galmar's brother and his buddy Agrenor the minute she stepped through the city gates. The fools have been drinking and harassing the greyskins again." Ulfric grunted, uninterested. "The girl nearly broke 'em into pieces, but Rolff was too embarrassed to tell Galmar about it. She wrung a promise out of them to stay out of the Grey Quarter and leave the Dunmer alone or there'd be hell to pay."

Ulfric snorted in amusement, though irritated. "Is that so. She thinks she can order my city to her liking, is that it?" Jorleif grimaced. "Is this the first time you've seen her?"

"Aye."

"She kept the mask on the entire time?" Jorleif nodded. "She isn't Altmer, is she?" She was certainly tall enough to be, as tall as Ulfric himself, though her build was much heavier than an Elf's.

"Can't rightly say. Never seen one of them High Elves lowering themselves to her kind of work. She didn't sound like one, either." He rubbed the side of his nose and said in a wary tone, "She was a spooky one though. Stood there watching you and Galmar argue about Whiterun, her head tracking you like a hunting hound watching a rabbit."

"Did she give her name?"

"Aye, right as she was leaving. Strundu'ul, she said."

Feeling a shock of adrenaline stab through him, Ulfric's breath caught as his eyes widened. "_Strundu'ul!"_ he choked.

"Funny name for a girl, eh?" Ulfric looked pale, staring at the far doors as if he had seen a ghost, his hands gripping the arms of his throne so hard that his knuckles were white. Worried, the steward asked, "Do you know who it is?"

Ulfric took a moment to find his tongue then quietly stated, "That was the Dragonborn, Jorleif."

"Holy Talos!" He put his hands over his eyes. "Ah gods, I had no idea. How could I have known?" He let his hands fall away. "Took her sweet time making an appearance. We've been waiting for this."

"Yes, so long that we thought she would never come, which was deliberate on her part, I am sure," he said wryly. He shook his head in admiration. He had gotten her two 'messengers', and while they had chosen their words carefully her intent had been clear: she didn't like what Ulfric was doing, and some day she would come to Windhelm to tell him so, and in the meantime he could wait and wonder what she was going to do about it.

"What do you want me to do, my Jarl? I could send the guards out and bring her back."

He snorted in derision. "There would be no bringing her back. We could only request the honor of her company." He had followed her career closely, once he'd become aware of her. He hadn't known whether to laugh or weep when he realized that the Dragonborn had been riding next to him in that cart to Helgen, that she had leapt out of that tower and run straight to Whiterun and into Balgruuf's court and the arms of the Companions, when with just a slight twist of fate he and Ralof could have kept the girl with them and perhaps been able to influence her to their side. They'd had no way of knowing that the skinny, frail-looking lass was of any importance. As of then she hadn't been. What she had become since then though… No, there would be no bringing her back to the palace against her will. She had a reason for coming here now, last of all the holds in Skyrim, and Ulfric very much doubted that he was going to like what she had to say to him.

"If she hasn't hightailed it to Whiterun to inform Balgruuf of what she just heard."

"Let her. Balgruuf knows my intent. He's known it for months." Months that Ulfric had kept hoping that Balgruuf would see reason and join his side. The man hadn't even bothered to respond to the last letter. Well, so be it.

Jorleif stroked his moustache and asked, "If I may…_Strundu'ul?_ What does it mean? I thought the Dragonborn's name was Brynhilde."

"It means Stormcrown in the dragon tongue." The steward whistled. Word from Ivarstead was that about a week ago the Dragonborn had ascended the mountain once again, and later that day thunder had rolled down from the peak in waves, frightening the residents of the small town. Ulfric didn't doubt that she had finally made the acquaintance of Paarthurnax, whom he himself had met only once, late in his studies at High Hrothgar. How he longed for those years sometimes, and the peace he had known then. The Dragonborn, Brynhilde, had chosen her words to Jorleif carefully, knowing that Ulfric could speak the language, though he was quite rusty. "Next time she comes, do whatever you have to, but I want to speak to her. I don't care what I am in the middle of or what time it is. Do it carefully, respectfully." He was as well-versed in the lore of the Dragonborn as any Greybeard. Those with the dragon blood were notoriously prideful and temperamental, just as all _dov_ were.

"Yes, my Jarl. Should I inform the guards to keep an eye out for her?"

"No. She'll come when she feels like it. One does not force the hand of a creature like that."

"Aye."

The steward walked away to see to the preparations for dinner, and Ulfric resisted the urge to get up and pace the hall. He leaned his chin on his hand and replayed his brief look at the woman in his mind, frustrated and fascinated beyond what was bearable. He remembered little about her from Helgen, his mind too preoccupied with his impending death and the end of his rebellion to pay much attention to the girl; she had been pale blond and thin, dressed in rags, quite tall, with a rather nasty head wound, but that was all. He felt like a fool that he hadn't noticed her while arguing with Galmar, but Jorleif often dealt with random folk that wanted an audience with Ulfric and the Jarl paid no attention to them unless they were there to join his ranks, and even then he only said a few words to them then turned them over to Galmar. He didn't think he had ever had such a shock in his life as he had at that one word:_Strundu'ul_. A powerful message indeed. It was alternately worrying and exciting that she was finally here, and waiting for her to reappear was going to have him in knots until then, not that he would show it.

He finally stood and went into the war room, seeing Galmar and Yrsarald Thrice-Pierced bent over the map, fine-tuning their strategy for taking Whiterun with as little damage as possible. They straightened up respectfully, and he said with a wry smile, "The Dragonborn was here, Galmar. Right in this hall while you and I debated about Whiterun."

The general brought his fist down on the table and growled, "Damn it all, and that idiot Jorleif just let her go?"

"He didn't know who she was. She was wearing a mask, but she made sure I knew who she was. It's my own fault I didn't realize it until after she was gone."

"So let me send some strong men out to haul her smug ass back here. Who the hell does she think she is?"

Ulfric laughed quietly and said, "She _knows_ who she is. Have you not been paying attention, Galmar? How many strong men do you think it would take to 'haul back' a person who could Shout this city apart?" His own actions at Markarth long ago looked trivial compared to what she could do. He knew with painful self-awareness that she could destroy him in minutes in single combat. She could put a stop to the civil war immediately by striding into this room and killing all three of the seasoned warriors here, kill every guard on her way out, then bring the palace down over their corpses. But she hadn't, and she would have today if that were her intent. What her intent was though…not knowing was driving him mad. The waiting was driving him mad, and it had been less than ten minutes since she had left.

"No, I haven't been paying attention. I've been too busy running your war. All I know is that her place is here, at your side, helping to free Skyrim."

"I'm afraid she doesn't see it that way." The girl had made it quite clear that she had absolutely no intention of joining his cause.

"So make her see it. She's the damned Dragonborn, half-blood or not. She could end this war and put you on the throne within weeks. It pisses me off to no end that she's been playing games with us, with you, for the last four months." Galmar had wanted to fetch her to Windhelm immediately after that Jerek fellow had shown up, singing the praises of the frost-breathing Dragonborn beauty who had saved him from torture and certain death at Thalmor hands. The nerve of the girl, to send a message to Ulfric in such a way!

"No doubt she is doing what she feels she must, as we all do. She is here now. I've told Jorleif to ask her to meet with me the next time she graces us with her presence."

"Graces us!" Galmar said in offense. "She should be glad not to get thrown out on her ear after the arrogance that she's shown you! Sending the men she's rescued to put whispers in your ear. Pah! You are the future High King of Skyrim and she will show you the respect you deserve."

"I'm afraid the Dragonborn gives her loyalty on a more personal level and cares little for ideology. She was openly wearing an Amulet of Talos. She's slaughtered more Thalmor than any of our men have. She clearly has no love for the Empire despite having been raised at the heart of it. She hasn't approached Tullius yet, that I am sure of."

Galmar grunted, "You have a point there. So, we go back to waiting, again."

"There's nothing else we can do."

* * *

"Sweet Mother, Sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."

Bryn shook her head, saddened by the boy's ceaseless chanting, sounding exhausted as if he had been going at it since the moment he awakened that morning. She had to admire the child's resourcefulness in not only escaping Honorhall but managing to get all the way back to Windhelm on his own _and_ survive here alone in the house and _then_ gather together all the gruesome items needed to perform the Black Sacrament. Quite a clever child indeed.

"Please, how long must I do this?" the boy whimpered. "I keep praying, Night Mother. Why won't you answer me?"

She moved out of the shadows and cleared her throat, and Aventus gasped then jumped to his feet, crying, "You came, I knew you would!" He jumped up and down and yelled, "It worked! I knew you'd come, I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament, over and over, with the body and…and the things…and then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!"

Bryn sighed and leaned against the wall, folding her arms as she said, "I'm sorry, but I'm not you who think I am."

"Of course you are! I prayed, and you came, and now you'll accept my contract!"

"Contract…yes, about that—"

"You see, my mother, she…she died. I…I'm all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honorhall. The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she's not kind. She's terrible, to all of us. So I ran away, and came home, and performed the Black Sacrament. Now you're here! And you can kill Grelod the Kind!"

She said with difficulty, "Well, Grelod… as it turns out, she's dead. I already killed her, but I didn't-"

"You did? Really?" He grinned widely. "This is the best news I've ever gotten! I mean, I knew the Dark Brotherhood was good, just not that good! You killed the old hag before I even asked you to!"

Exasperated, Bryn said, "You're not listening to me, boy."

"When I grow up, I'm going to be an assassin. That way I can help lots of children, just like you." He gasped as Bryn picked him up under his arms and held him at eye level, shaking him so hard his teeth chattered.

"Listen to me!" she barked. He stared at her with huge, dark eyes, a look of fear on his face, but at least he had shut up. She put her face near his and said, "_Listen_. Carefully. I am _not_ an assassin. I am _not_ part of the Dark Brotherhood. Look at me, at what I'm wearing. Assassins don't wear shiny green armor and go around showing their faces!"

"O-okay," he stammered, nodding vigorously. She set him on his feet and he asked in confusion, "But then…who are you?"

"I'm Brynhilde, the Harbinger of the Companions, thane of the Rift and just about everywhere else," she said tiredly. "I'm the Dragonborn. And yes, I killed Grelod, but it was an accident. All I wanted to do was scare her, to make her leave the children alone. She must have had a bad heart, if she had one at all. She keeled over from fright, and that's it. I didn't murder her."

Aventus stared at her in disbelief, then he blinked and slowly said, "Well, okay. I guess I don't care how she died, as long as she's dead."

"She's very dead, and Constance Michel is in charge now. The children will never get hit again. They're getting three full meals a day and then some, and they're allowed to play outside, and Constance promises that once she has things in order that she'll start allowing adoptions."

"Really?" he said in a tone of yearning.

"Yes, really, and you need to go back."

"To be honest…I'm kind of lonely here. As much as I hated getting sent to Honorhall, I really miss my friends there."

"They miss you too." She squatted down to his level, feeling terribly sorry for the child. Since coming to Skyrim it had become more and more apparent that her own childhood really hadn't been nearly as bad as she had assumed. She said in a kind tone, "Listen Aventus, the Brotherhood is evil to the core. They have no honor. They're murderers, plain and simple, and they've already come after me. If I get the chance, if I find out where they are, I will destroy them, every last one of them." He nodded, his eyes wide. She put her hands on his shoulders. "I'm going to help you clean up this house. What would your mother think to see what you've been doing here?" Aventus swallowed, his eyes shiny. "We'll get this all cleaned up and put in order, then I'm taking you back to Honorhall, and not one word more about the Dark Brotherhood. If I get my way, there will be no more Dark Brotherhood before long. If you want to help children when you grow up, then you become a good, honorable man, like the Companions, not an assassin."

"Yes ma'am."

She smiled at him and ruffled his hair then stood. "When was the last time you had a good meal, little one?"

"I don't know," he mumbled. "Maybe since Mama died. She um...she got really sick. She kept saying it was nothing, but one day she just...she just didn't wake up."

Bryn sighed and bent down to kiss him on the head then patted his back. "You start picking up this mess and I'll get you a big dinner from Candlehearth Hall, all right? With some pie to top it off."

"All right!" She smiled at him again and he said, "Hey, if you're the Dragonborn, can you show me a Shout? I've heard you can Shout so loud it blows people off their feet!"

Bryn laughed and said, "I've got Shouts that are much more fun than that. Watch this. _FEIM!"_

"Whoa!" he yelped. Bryn had become completely transparent, like a ghost. He reached out and put his hand through her then pulled it back, holding it against his chest. "Amazing," he breathed. "Say, do you think we'll see any dragons on the way back to Riften? I'd love to see a dragon!"

"Maybe. We're taking a wagon and dragons seem to avoid the main roads, but we'll see." The ethereal effect wore off and the boy's eyes widened again. "Have the guards come to check on you at all since they found out you're here?" He shook his head, and it sent hot irritation through Bryn. Yet another sign that Ulfric was not caring properly for his city or its citizens. As Viola Giordano had said, what good was it to win a war if you weren't taking care of your own? She turned away to go get their meals, saying, "I'm staying here with you tonight, all right?"

"All night?"

"Yes."

"Good," he said with relief. "I mean, I guess that's okay."

Bryn nodded seriously, trying not to smile. It had to have been frightening for the boy to stay here alone. Well, no more of that. Bryn would get him safely back to the Orphanage and he would live out the rest of his childhood in safety and security, with his friends.

* * *

"Uhhh," Bryn groaned, nearly retching as she rolled onto her knees. She shook her head to clear it, her vision swimming. She looked around herself and saw that she was in a blood-spattered shack. When she had gone to sleep she had been in a bedroll, camping for the night along the road back to Windhelm after delivering Aventus to Honorhall Orphanage. Constance had eyed her fearfully, still terrified of her, even after Bryn had dumped another sack of gold on the table. She hadn't rejected it but hadn't rushed to pick it up either. At the gates of Riften a courier had handed her a letter, brief but to the point: a black handprint with the words "WE KNOW". She had expected more assassins after that, but she hadn't expected this.

"Sleep well?"

Bryn struggled to her feet, feeling the poison quickly wearing off. The source of the sultry female voice was perched on an empty bookshelf, idly swinging her leg, wearing assassin's leathers. This was a new tactic for them. She took stock of her gear and it all was there, piled at her feet, her armor still on. She bent down to strap on her weapons and the woman didn't try to stop her. Stupid, stupid move. "So, who are you?" she asked in annoyance.

"Does it matter? You're warm, dry…and still very much alive. That's more than can be said for old Grelod, hmm?"

"So you know about that, then."

She laughed. "Half of Skyrim knows. An old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage? Things like that tend to get around." Bryn closed her eyes, sighing heavily. "Oh, but don't misunderstand," she said quickly. "I'm not criticizing. It was a good, clean kill. Old crone had it coming, and you saved a group of urchins to boot. Ah, but there is a slight…problem."

"First of all, I didn't butcher her," Bryn protested.

"I don't care. You killed her, Dragonborn. Can I call you that? Granted, only we know that, and the ninny that runs the orphanage now, but it doesn't matter. Like I said, we have a problem."

"What would that be?"

"You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates. Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill that you stole. A kill you must repay."

"I suppose you should've gotten to it a bit faster then." The woman's eyes narrowed above her mask. "I had no idea he was trying to contact you. The poor child had been at it for weeks by time I showed up at his house. In any case, all he was going to pay you with was an old silver plate. Surely your services aren't bought so cheaply?"

"Very funny."

"I'm rather annoyed right now, and rather confused as to why I was brought here instead of having my throat slit while I was sleeping."

"As I said, Grelod is a kill that must be repaid."

"How?"

"Funny you should ask. If you turn around you'll notice my guests. I've 'collected' them from…well, that's not really important. The here and now, that's what matters." Bryn turned and looked at three people kneeling on the floor, their hands bound behind them and sacks over their heads. "You see, there's a contract out on one of them, and that person can't leave this room alive. But…which one? Go on, see if you can figure it out." Her eyes crinkled as she smiled under the mask. "Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe…and admire."

Bryn stared at the woman for a moment and her poise didn't falter, the leg swinging back and forth with maddening calm. She finally asked her, "Are you the head of the Brotherhood?"

"That I am. Astrid, at your service."

"You clearly didn't do your homework if you think I'll have any part of this insanity."

"Now _that_ is a shame," Astrid stated, her voice hardening. "But what you fail to realize is that you involved yourself in this 'insanity' when you took Grelod's life. You made your choice, and now it's time to face the consequences of your actions. You don't leave this shack until someone dies."

"It doesn't matter who?"

"Not at all."

Bryn nodded slowly and turned away to go look at the captives, a man, a woman and a khajiit male. She didn't care who they were or what they had done. As she pulled out her bow and strung it she asked Astrid, "So, how many of you are left? After the three failures you sent after me?"

"That is irrelevant to the matter at hand. Make your choice. Now."

"I did the moment I laid eyes on you."

"What!" Astrid hissed.

Bryn smoothly turned while nocking an arrow and sent it sailing across the room and into Astrid's chest. The assassin slid off the bookcase to the floor, pulling out a dagger as she screamed and struggled to regain her feet. Bryn calmly put another arrow into her, hearing a mumbled "Well done" as the assassin collapsed. She put her bow over her shoulder and freed the captives, waving off their thanks as they sped out the door, leaving it open behind them. She bent down and inspected the dead woman, first taking the wicked looking dagger from her hand. It had an evil look to it but might be worth something. It was still her first instinct to collect and/or sell anything valuable she could get her hands on. She had even considered investing in some businesses lately; there simply wasn't much of anything left to spend her vast store of coin on. She didn't bother stripping off the enchanted leather armor, which was now bloody and had two holes in it. She already had a set that was serviceable, if she ever decided to teach Maven Black-Briar a lesson.

She exited the shack, seeing the captives taking the boat out into a marsh that she knew well, in fact she had seen this shack before in her wanderings through Hjaalmarch. She oriented herself south and started walking towards Morthal. If that had been the leader of the Dark Brotherhood then she truly felt sorry for the state they had fallen into. She had to admire their sheer gall for not only kidnapping her but leaving her in full gear and actually expecting her to join them. At least she had cut the head off the snake. All she had to do now was find out where the nest was.


	25. Chapter 25

The sound of someone moving around Kodlak's bedroom drew Vilkas' attention as he headed for his room to get clean clothing for a bath, tired and sweaty from a day of running a new recruit through his paces. The redheaded innkeeper's son from Rorikstead, Erik, needed work, a lot of it, but the lad had fire and spirit, and he had come here at Bryn's suggestion, though it had taken him many months to act on it. He had tried adventuring on this own and had quickly realized he simply didn't have the training to do so, and so he had come here after nearly dying in an encounter. The boy had been disappointed that the Dragonborn wasn't here when he'd arrived two weeks ago but had knuckled down and was trying hard, and that was all Vilkas could ask. They needed more members and he was certainly more promising than most who walked through the door.

When he heard the clank of dragon scale he hurried his steps, disbelieving, though it was easier to believe Bryn was home than to think anyone would violate the sanctity of the Harbinger's quarters and steal her dragon remains. He walked quickly through the doorway and let out a shaky breath of relief to see Bryn sorting out scales and bones on the bed, her back to him. She was still grimy from the road and whatever she had been up to the last few weeks, but still, it had only been a few weeks. She was back much earlier than anyone had expected, and it worried him. She looked up at his noisy entrance and gave him a sweet smile, and he laughed in relief and crossed the short distance between them to take her into his arms. She put her arms around his neck and they held each other as best they could with armor between them, glass clinking against steel. "Ah dear, it's so good to see you," he said happily. "I was afraid something was wrong."

"Oh no, no. Not anymore. Or yet? No, things are fine right now."

Vilkas held her out at arm's length, using the thumb of one glove to wipe dirt from her forehead, then he began picking grass and bits of dried leaves from her hair, the usual pale gold grimy and unwashed, in fact she was a wee bit fragrant too. He frowned slightly and asked, "What do you mean, not anymore or yet? Was something wrong? Will it be?"

"Well, let's see…I was kidnapped by the leader of the Dark Brotherhood—"

"Ah gods," he said in a tight voice, letting go of her to run his fingers back through his hair.

"Luckily for me assassins these days seem to be incredibly stupid. There is no more Dark Brotherhood."

His hands fell and he stared at her in disbelief. "You're joking."

"I don't joke. I just got back from Dragon Bridge and talking to Commander Maro, the head of the Penitus Oculatus here in Skyrim. Paid me an outrageous sum of money for wiping them out. And guess who I found in the Falkreath Sanctuary? Arnbjorn."

Vilkas' eyes nearly came out of his head. "He'd become one of them?"

"Yes, he was Astrid's husband. Astrid was their leader, the one who kidnapped me. She had some strange fantasy that I was going to join their ranks." She didn't tell him about Grelod. She couldn't. Hopefully he never found out. "She had three poor souls there all tied up and bagged and told me I couldn't leave without killing someone. So I killed her." Bryn shrugged and went back to sorting the items on the bed. "This was near Morthal, so I headed there and told a guard what happened, and he pointed me to Commander Maro. He gave me the password to their sanctuary, and I snuck in and spied on them for a while. When I heard the name Arnbjorn I listened to them, and he was worried about his wife Astrid, and it became apparent who he was. I waited until they slept then killed them all in their beds." With the Blade of Woe, which she had found nicely ironic. Maro had eyed the dagger with loathing but had told her what it was, and she had decided to keep it. It would work much better than potentially wasting an arrow or trying to manage Dawnbreaker when doing a sneak attack from behind. Again, something her beloved just didn't need to know. She heard a sound of bewilderment from him and went on, "The only thing is that I heard them talking about someone named Cicero, and the Night Mother. I read some books and journals in the sanctuary and I think there might be someone still left out there, with the corpse of the Night Mother—"

"All right, all right," Vilkas begged. "Gods love, this is too morbid for me. Come take a bath with me and tell me something else. Anything else."

"All right," she softly agreed. She left the scales where they were and went to the wardrobe to get clean clothes. "How about I tell you about a conversation I had at the peak of the Throat of the World with a dragon?" She smiled at him over her shoulder and saw a look of wonder on his face. Her smile faded as she said, "I can't stay long, dearest. A few days at most. Long enough to forge a new set of armor."

"I thought as much," he said in a tone of acceptance. He nodded towards the bed. "So you're finally going to do the full set?" She and Eorlund had only created a shield, and it had stayed here, since Bryn preferred having a full set of matching armor.

"Yes, I think it's time. I need something with a bit more…umph to it when I see Ulfric again."

Vilkas laughed quietly. "Yes, I'd say dragonscale armor has umph." Bryn laughed in response. It was good to see her spirits were still high, that she wasn't brooding about anything. Yet. "Did you talk to him?"

"No. I did overhear him and his general talking about attacking Whiterun, which I just passed on to Balgruuf. I think our Jarl is finally going to throw in with the Empire." Vilkas licked his lips then nodded, looking worried. "I wish he wouldn't, and I advised neutrality, but he was so angry about Ulfric that he said he'd had it and was going to send a courier to Solitude. I was barely able to talk him out of it and tell him to wait, to give me a little more time." It made her almost wish she hadn't told him.

"Our Jarl does have a temper."

"Is Lydia still mad at me?"

"She's no longer boiling, but she is still stewing, yes." Bryn wrinkled her nose and walked out of the Harbinger's quarters with him towards the stairs to the basement. "She'll get over it. I wasn't happy when you left her behind, but it sounds like it might not have been a good thing to have her with you."

"Definitely not a good thing," she agreed. Astrid might have simply slit Lydia's throat in her sleep.

"Are you heading back to Windhelm when you leave?"

"Yes, there have been some murders in the city that the guards aren't competent to deal with." Bryn shook her head, her lips pursed. "If the state of Ulfric's city and hold is any suggestion of how he would run Skyrim, there's no way in hell I'm allowing him to become High King. I have to admit that I don't believe he's just power hungry. The argument I witnessed between him and his housecarl reassured me on that point, and he didn't know I was there so it was genuine. But this war of his takes all his time and attention and the city is just about falling apart around him. The outer walls are strong, but inside…"

"Quite the metaphor, isn't it."

"Yes, quite. And the poor Dunmer." She clucked her tongue and shook her head as they entered the bathing room, a rare commodity that she enjoyed every time she came here. "Ulfric and the guards allow them to be bullied, in fact the second I walked into the city I had to step between two drunken thugs and a Dunmer woman they were harassing. I ended up having to give them both a thrashing. One of them ended up being Galmar Stone-Fist's brother, but even if I'd known it wouldn't have stopped me. Those poor people have been basically herded into a slum, and the Argonians don't even have a slum and are stuck on the docks. It just makes me so mad. It doesn't have to be like that. They all work, in fact they work harder than those two idiots who don't work at all, and I think that's why they haven't been run out of the city. They provide an easy target for the racists to expend their energy on while also providing labor. It's…ugh."

"All right," Vilkas said with kind sternness, closing the door and locking it then taking the clothes from her hands to hang up. "No more talk of negative things tonight. I'm glad you're here and you're going to let me get you washed and fed and into a warm bed, and if I happen to make love to you at some point in there then everything is good."

She smiled brightly at him and leaned up to kiss him. "Yes, everything is good." And it usually was when he was around, when his charm and handsomeness made leaving him seem an impossible prospect. That day was coming closer all the time. When she was done with the murders in Windhelm she would finally run up to the College of Winterhold and see what the mages knew about finding an Elder Scroll and turn in those pieces of the amulet she had found, which she was really getting sick of carrying around, even as small as they were. Once she had the Scroll there really wasn't anything stopping her from facing Alduin.

At least she would have the dragonscale armor to protect her, along with whatever enchantments she decided to add to them. She had a handful of filled black soul gems that she had been waiting to use that would come in very handy, and she was quite proficient in Enchanting at this point and also had a stock of Enchanter's Elixirs to boost the skill. She was naturally resistant to frost, so a fire resistance enchantment on the shield would be helpful. She was tired of wearing Krosis and thought she could put a much stronger archery enchantment on a circlet than the mask carried; she had an idea for a dragon bone circlet that she wanted to run by Eorlund, along with a nice matched set of perfect diamonds and a large, perfect red ruby that she had been holding onto that would look good on it. An enchantment to boost her light weapons skill would work well on the gauntlets, and she always put a muffling enchantment on any boots she owned. She would finish off the set by enchanting her armor to help her quickly regenerate health when wounded. Once all that was done there wasn't anything else she could do to be better prepared to fight Alduin. Except finish the business between her and Vilkas.

Vilkas saw a look of sorrow cross her face as he helped her out of her armor and asked, "What's wrong, love?"

Bryn shook her head and gave him a brief smile, laying her hand on his cheek. His light gray eyes sparkled in the lantern light, framed by war paint, and the look he gave her nearly made her start crying. She just couldn't see how she would ever find the strength to leave him. She had to give him the chance to marry her, had to propose on her own to make absolutely sure he was never going to do it. She was twenty-eight, no blushing girl-child with forever in front of her. She still wanted a husband and children, and if Vilkas didn't find her fit to marry after all their time together then she had to wash her hands of him when she left to fight Alduin, to make a clean break. She would take her time finding a man after that, and would pray to Mara for guidance in that regard. Frankly Mara owed her. And if Mara didn't see fit to help her find a good, marriageable man, then maybe she would bestow the same gift on Bryn that she had on Balgruuf and help her never love again.

* * *

Ulfric came out of the war room to see a figure coming out of the side door that led to the upstairs of the Palace of Kings. He paused and frowned, unable to place what kind of armor she was wearing. He had never seen the likes of it, grayish-brown, some kind of scale plate and pebbled leather, and when she passed a sconce on the wall it lit up her pale ash blond hair, which was braided back and bound by a strange circlet. She had nearly reached the doors to leave the palace when he felt a sudden realization and called out, "Hey!" The Dragonborn ignored him and pushed out the doors, seeming to be in a hurry. She had to be ignoring him; sound carried extremely well in this hall, and he had a rather loud voice. He was not used to being ignored, Dragonborn or not. Angry, he strode across the hall to the doors and barked at the guard on the right, "Go after that girl and tell her I want to talk to her."

"Aye my Jarl!"

As he hurried to do Ulfric's bidding, the Jarl looked at the other guard, who was standing ramrod straight at attention. He asked her, "Why was she coming from the upstairs?"

"She was talking to Wuunferth the Unliving, my Jarl," she stated. "About the murders. I think she was just at Hjerim, investigating."

The other guard burst into the palace, breathlessly saying in dismay, "My Jarl, she won't come! Says another murder is about to happen and she has to stop it!"

"All right, all right," Ulfric growled, waving him off. "Back to your post." He headed upstairs to talk to his court mage, unsettled and aggravated. Jorleif was nowhere to be seen, no doubt making preparations for dinner, and wouldn't have seen the Dragonborn come in. Wuunferth's door was open, as it usually was, and Ulfric knocked on it impatiently to get the mage's attention, as the elder was engrossed in a book.

"Jarl Ulfric," he said in surprise, moving to stand, but Ulfric motioned for him to stay sitting. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" The Jarl rarely came up here, finding the room uncomfortable, for obvious reasons.

"The Dragonborn was just here, I take it?"

"So that's who she was. Odd girl, isn't she?"

"I wouldn't know," he said sourly. "Twice now she has come into my court and not deigned to introduce herself to me."

"Oh! Well, I didn't know she was in the city again until she crossed my threshold, my Jarl, or that you wanted to see her. She's helping Jorleif and the guards solve the murders. By my calculations another may be happening tonight. Necromancy is at work here in our city and must be stopped. She says the womenfolk here are terrified, my Jarl, afraid to set foot outside their homes."

His anger draining out of him, Ulfric nodded and leaned against the door jamb, crossing his arms. "I am aware of that. Did she have anything else to say while she was here?"

"No, can't say that she did, but she was in a hurry." He scowled and added, "That Giordano woman tried to implicate _me_ in the murders, can you believe it? Tried to imply that I dabble in the dark arts. _Me_, a full member in good standing of the College of Winterhold!"

"I'm sure no one believes that, Wuunferth. Her armor, did you get a good look at it? Last time she was here she was wearing glass."

"Huh. No my Jarl, didn't pay attention to its make, sorry. Felt magic crawling all over her, though. Don't think she was wearing, or carrying, anything that wasn't enchanted." He rubbed his chin and said, "She was a strange one. Moved silent as a thief, even in all that gear. Had eyes like an Altmer, though just the irises, and her gaze was…" He shivered slightly. "Like a sabre cat's. I'm not an easily intimidated man, mind you, but there was something rather unnerving about being stared at like that."

"She is the ultimate predator," Ulfric stated as he stood away from the door. "She hunts the hunters. If she comes to you again, tell her I want to see her immediately."

"I will do so, my Jarl."

"Thank you."

Ulfric went back downstairs and threw himself into his stone throne, where he set to tapping the fingers of one hand on the arms, his chin in the palm of the other hand. The Dragonborn had been on his mind off and on since her first appearance in his palace. He had told Jorleif to gather all the information on her activities in Windhelm that he could, and it seemed she had quickly made a name for herself here, especially among the Dark Elves with whom she associated freely. She had been seen trading with the khajiit caravan outside the city. She had gone out to the docks to speak with the Argonians there. And of course she had given Galmar's brother a beating. All of this in the first two days she had been here, and then she had taken the Aretino boy back to the orphanage, whose headmistress had mysteriously died right before the Dragonborn coming here, and wouldn't you know it, the Dark Brotherhood had been wiped out by her not long after she left the boy in Riften. And now she was back. She was a busy girl.

Dragonborn. Thane of Whiterun, Hjaalmarch, Haafingar, The Reach, The Rift, The Pale, Winterhold, Falkreath. Harbinger of the Companions. Member of the Bards College. Champion of Meridia. Champion of Azura. Destroyer of the Dark Brotherhood. Slayer of the Glenmoril Witches. And those were only the titles and honors that he knew about. He found the young woman fascinating, and he was rarely impressed with anyone or anything. He wasn't even entirely sure what he was going to say to her when he did finally have the opportunity. He wasn't about to waste his breath trying to sway her to his view of things. Such a strong-willed person wasn't one to be swayed by words. No, he was more interested in hearing what she had to say to him, even if he was certain he wasn't going to like it. He was very certain of that indeed.

Ulfric didn't have long to wait. He was seated at the head of the long table with his court an hour later when one of the doors was shoved open in a swirl of snow. He stared down the length of the table and the girl stared back, an inch taller than the male Nord guard next to her, her pale hair and the shoulders of her armor dusted with snow. She had a wicked looking dagger on her right hip and the Daedric sword Dawnbreaker on the left. An ebony bow was slung across her back and a bizarre looking shield that matched her equally strange but impressive armor was on her left arm. Ulfric realized with a jolt that the shield and armor were made of dragon scales and bones.

He kicked Jorleif's foot under the table, and the steward hastily got up and hurried to her, saying, "Dragonborn, what news do you have?"

"The killer is dead," she stated. "It was Calixto Corrium."

"I'll be damned," Jorleif said in disbelief.

"I saw him in the marketplace, coming up behind Arivanya with a dagger drawn. While, I might add, a guard was not ten feet away as oblivious as a newborn kitten. One wonders just what they think their job is, if not to guard the citizenry. Maybe if it had been a Nord woman he might have actually seen something." Jorleif shrugged and shook his head helplessly. "In any case, Calixto got a dagger in his back instead, and the women of Windhelm are safe again."

"You've done this city a great service, Dragonborn, thank you. Here is your reward." He fished out a bag of coin and handed it to her.

"Thank you. I will put this to good use helping the folk of the Gray Quarter and the Docks." Jorleif cleared his throat and nodded, looking uncomfortable. Bryn turned her gaze back to the table, where Ulfric and his men sat silently, watching her with varying expressions. All men. Interesting. She inclined her head to Ulfric respectfully and bowed slightly, saying, "I've interrupted the Jarl's dinner. I apologize for the inconvenience."

Ulfric stood and said in a booming voice, "It is no inconvenience, Dragonborn. Please, if you've no other plans, would you join us? I am certain you have a great many tales that would enliven our meal."

"If you and your men find one of my mixed heritage palatable company…"

"You are Dragonborn, and we were at Helgen together. That is all anyone at this table needs to know or care."

"Then I would be honored, Jarl Ulfric."

He waited for her to remove her weapons and shield then seat herself, then he sat back down, a bit disgusted with his court for not rising for a lady. Perhaps they didn't view her as one. Armed and armored as she was, she was still a pretty young woman, and when she smiled down the table at him with a hint of shyness then looked down again he couldn't help feeling a rare flutter of attraction. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt it. He avoided the waiting discussion that hung between them and asked instead, "Tell us, is that armor what I think it is? I've never seen the like."

"Yes, Jarl Ulfric. Dragonscale. I made it two days ago, with the help of Eorlund Gray-Mane and my friend Farkas. I've harvested the remains of nearly every dragon I've killed. I've always found it odd… such a huge creature and after a few minutes all that's left is the skull and a few bones and scales. The skin burns away in a cold fire, and the majority of the skeleton eventually turns to ash and crumbles." There were sounds of amazement from the men at the table. "I have seen Alduin raising them from their graves several times now, but once their souls have been taken there is nothing left to raise again."

Yrsarald asked, "So lass, how many dragons have you taken?"

"Hm, I'm not sure. Around fifty. I wish I had kept track."

Galmar asked in a growl, "And how many Thalmor have you sent back to their maker?"

"That is a number that unfortunately I have not kept track of either. Over twenty, easily. Closer to thirty, most likely, with the death squads they keep sending after me." She accepted a platter of venison from the priest Lortheim next to her and softly thanked him.

"Death squads," the housecarl grunted.

"Yes, Elenwen sent them after me. Not very deadly, were they?" She placed two slices of roast on her plate and said in a thoughtful tone, "I've considered going back up to the Embassy and disposing of her, then Ondolemar in Markarth and Ancano in Winterhold, but I'd rather not be responsible for an incident of that order."

Ulfric resisted the urge to lick his lips as her golden eyes lifted to his. He could hear the unspoken _Yet_ at the end of her statement. He wondered what the girl knew that was making her look at him like that, with that sudden intense attention that Wuunferth had previously mentioned. He motioned with his fork towards her Amulet of Talos and asked, "Has that caused you trouble?"

"Only with the Thalmor. People all across the country still worship Talos," she stated, lowering her eyes to her plate again as she sliced her meat. "If chasing me about Skyrim keeps the Thalmor occupied and away from our people, I'll gladly deal with the occasional annoyance of the squads. Though I haven't seen any for a month or so. I've considered sneaking into the Embassy again to see what they're up to, but I don't get up to Haafingar and Solitude as often as I would like."

Galmar said tersely, "Why go there at all? It's a nest of Imperial snakes."

"Yes, and this is a den of Stormcloak bears," she said with a shrug, hoping her tone was as full of unconcern as she thought it was. She had expected that if anyone started something it would be him. He had eyed her with distrust the entire time. "I spend a great deal of time in dens and nests of all sorts, General Stone-Fist. One is much like another; only the flavor changes slightly."

Yrsarald snorted and said in amusement, "General Stone-Fist." The older man cuffed him on the back of the head, making him laugh.

"It is what I am," Galmar said in irritation, "and it is good that the lass does not forget that." He looked at her pointedly.

"Solitude is a beautiful city," Bryn continued without apology. "I have as many friends there as anywhere, except Whiterun. Whiterun is the home of my heart. Folk there had faith in me when I had none in myself, and made me what I am today. I'll always be grateful to them for that, no matter what else happens." It was silent at the table as the men all looked at each other warily. She shrugged and stated, "It's all right. We all do what we feel we must, what we're compelled to do, whether by our own consciences or in reaction to the unconscious prodding of things we experienced in the past." Her eyes moved to Ulfric and he frowned slightly, staring back with narrowed blue eyes touched with green. She could see he was troubled by her statement. She smiled sweetly at him, her voice tinged with regret. _"Krosis, kodaav jun,"_ she murmured, the words rolling out of their own accord. It happened more and more often lately. _Apologies, bear king._ Ulfric swallowed and blinked, as affected by the words as she'd hoped he would be. "We all know I heard your plans for Whiterun. Attack it if you must, but I wish you wouldn't. I would have to be there to defend the home of my heart, to defend those I consider my family. I can do truly terrible things, and it would haunt me, beyond the sheer waste of it. I would destroy whatever army you sent and you would accomplish nothing other than throwing away the lives of fine young Nord men and women. I haven't joined either side in hopes of avoiding spilling human blood when I would rather be spilling the Thalmor's." Her brow crinkled as she added, "I had hoped to speak to you in private, Jarl Ulfric. I certainly didn't plan on making dinner awkward."

Galmar said in his gravelly voice, "Whatever you have to say to Ulfric you can say to us. You have no need to speak to him in private."

"That would be an inaccurate statement." He sneered at her, and she smiled coolly. "Surely you don't fear for the Jarl's safety in my company. If I intended him any harm it would have happened long ago."

He slammed his fist down on the table as he stood. "We don't take well to threats, girl!"

Bryn frowned and said in an innocent tone, "Only the fearful see threat where none is intended. I am simply making a statement of fact, in all honesty. I will never be less than completely honest, I promise you that."

"Then what the hell do you need a private audience for?"

"Why the hell does the thought of it worry you so?" His eyes widened at her impertinence. She smiled at him and went on, "I have no ulterior motives. I have no secret weapon at my disposal that will suddenly make Jarl Ulfric agree to put a stop to all this…waste, just as there is nothing he could say to me that would sway me from the path of neutrality. I certainly haven't sat down to have dinner with General Tullius, and I really did intend only to have dinner and tell a few stories. I certainly never intended to discuss politics."

Galmar seethed as he started at the girl, and Yrsarald said with disquiet, "You truly think you can destroy an army."

Bryn sighed and nodded, looking back down at her plate. "Yes, at this point I'm afraid I probably could. A small one, anyway." She began eating, her food growing cold. "What did Tiber Septim do in his prime, before he lost his Voice, with no dragon souls to harvest as I have?"

The priest Lortheim said in annoyance, "That is dangerously close to blasphemy, lass."

"What a very Thalmor-like thing to say." She chewed her food then swallowed. "We have a priest of Talos in Whiterun, Heimskr, who is fond of screaming at everyone all day, every day, about how _he_ is the chosen of Talos and only _he_ can show everyone the path to true enlightenment. He's a bit mad, I think, but his is the kind of dangerous arrogance that should be shown no patience, and yet Balgruuf does, because he knows the people need an outlet." She looked at the priest and said, "I am the daughter of Akatosh, Dragonborn, Dovahkiin, as Tiber Septim was. That you dare to accuse one such as me of blasphemy is…well, funny." The priest stared at her with his mouth hanging open, offended.

Galmar still stood, staring furiously at her, and he leaned on his hands on the table and said to her in an intense, lowered voice, "You have some nerve, coming here like this—"

"I'm just trying to have a nice dinner, Galmar." She heard a muffled snort of laughter from up the table, but whether it was from Jorleif or Ulfric she didn't know. Ulfric had been extremely quiet through all this, but maybe he was just enjoying the show, waiting to see who won.

"I meant this game you've been playing with us. Telling that bard to tell Ulfric hello for you. Sending the men you rescued here to tell Ulfric you wouldn't join his cause and that he could damn well wait to find out why."

"I told them both why. Not my fault if they failed to convey that properly."

"So tell us, why are you here?"

"I will tell Jarl Ulfric, in private, if he sees fit to grant me such an audience."

He slammed his fist on the table again and barked, "No, you will tell us now!"

Bryn carefully set down her knife and fork and raised her eyes to his. "And I say I will not." She rose smoothly from the table, saying, "You have violated the rules of hospitality, Galmar. A very un-Nord-like thing to do. Even I know that."

The older man sputtered, and when she started putting back on her gear he demanded, "You will sit back down and answer my question, wench!"

"Ah, sexism _and_ racism, all in one tidy package. Unattractive. And very counter-productive." She slung the bow on her back and said to the older man, "Truly, who do you think you are to talk to me like a serving girl?"

"Who do _you_ think—"

"_I AM DOVAHKIIN!"_ she shouted. The sound cracked around them like a whip, making the dishes and goblets on the table rattle as the men gasped or cried out in shock. All but Ulfric. She admired that. Thunder rolled then faded, and Bryn calmly said to Galmar, "Something about me offends you, sir. Perhaps my mixed blood. Perhaps you finally heard that I handed your brother his ass. Either way, I didn't come here to deal with _you_. I came here to speak to the master, not the servant." Galmar's eyes bugged out as his face turned red with rage. Bryn turned her gaze to Ulfric, who was still watching silently, leaning back in his chair at the head of the table, slowly running his fingers over his beard. She inclined her head to him with a slight bow, saying, "I will await your summons, Jarl Ulfric." He nodded, his expression unreadable. "Thank you for your hospitality." He nodded again.

The Jarl's eyes widened in surprise as the girl Shouted _"TIID!"_ and the world around them all slowed to the pace of dripping honey. He watched helplessly as the Dragonborn leapt over the dinner table in slow motion, drawing her dagger as she went. He felt his heart go into his throat as she went for Galmar, then there was a slow clanking sound and she was running for the door. Time reverted to normal as the men gasped, and Bryn was gone from the palace before anyone could react.

Galmar stared in shock at the doors, his heart hammering. He had been sure he was a dead man when he saw the girl coming after him with a wicked smirk on her face and that evil dagger in her hand. He wiped his sweating brow with his hand then looked down at his plate, and he cried out in offended fury to see the claws of his bear cloak lying there. All of them. He heard a smothered guffaw from next to him and cuffed Yrsarald, yelling, "It isn't funny, damn you!"

"Like hell it isn't," the younger man said with a grin. "The old bear has been declawed!" The other men burst into laughter, even Ulfric.

Jorleif laughed, "Eh Galmar, at least she didn't neuter you!"

Ulfric covered his mouth, biting his lip, unable to help a snort from escaping. Galmar glared at him and said, "You could have put a stop to this, Ulfric!"

"Yes, I could have, and so could you," he said, sitting up to return to the meal. "I wanted to see who would come out on top."

Yrsarald wiggled his eyebrows and said, "She strikes me as a woman who ends up on top quite often." The men at the table laughed, except for Galmar, though he was lowering himself into his seat, grumbling. He poured himself another mead and went on, "Ah, the world is unfair. Such power and brains and beauty. What a conquest she would be!"

Jorleif rolled his eyes and said, "She is already taken, fool. Vilkas of the Companions warms her bed."

"Oh, I know. Everyone in Skyrim knows that, and if anyone could be a match for her it is that worthy warrior, but a man can daydream."

Galmar growled at him, "Don't let your woman catch you dreaming, boy."

"Ah, I love my Ingie," Yrsarald assured him. "She would be first to say that I wouldn't be a man if I didn't look."

Lortheim said, "Yes, this Dragonborn is fair of face, and that she is powerful goes without saying. But I find her loose talk of Talos troubling."

Ulfric told him, "You must look at this from her point of view. For being Dragonborn I found her lack of arrogance refreshing."

"Lack of arrogance!" Galmar exclaimed. "After what that bitch did to me!"

"You had it coming, old friend. You sullied my offer of hospitality. You challenged and insulted a guest, an esteemed guest, at my table." His housecarl instantly went silent, contrite, and looked away, nodding. Ulfric waved his knife at his steward. "Jorleif, I will take dinner with her tomorrow in the small dining room upstairs. Alone."

"Aye, my Jarl," he answered with a nod. "But if I can't find her?"

"She'll let herself be found," he said with confidence.

"Aye."

As they all continued eating Ulfric mulled over every moment the Dragonborn had been there, going over every nuance in her words and gestures. _Krosis, kodaav jun._ How it had wounded him to hear those words. He doubted her intent had been hurt, but it had hurt all the same. He had learned the dragon tongue as a boy from the Greybeards, and once he had learned it that was all they had conversed in, for the glory of Kynareth. Such peaceful years…and once he had left High Hrothgar he had never known peace again. Even now he sometimes wondered if he had made a mistake, leaving there. He rarely allowed himself the luxury of self-doubt, but the Dragonborn was nurturing the seeds of it that had lain there dormant for so long.

Of course she would help defend Whiterun, and of course she would decimate any army he sent against it. Balgruuf was not just her Jarl but her friend; it was known that she lunched with him in private at least once during her time in Whiterun and treated him with not just respect but genuine affection. He knew from the Jarls allied to him and his clandestine contacts in the other holds that she was respectful to all the Jarls she answered to, and that they trusted her, but she honestly liked Balgruuf and was loyal to him. He would be interested in knowing what her ultimate objective was, why she had gone to the time and effort of becoming a thane to every Jarl but him, and why she had saved him for last. No doubt if he asked her she would simply tell him. And so he would. The hours until he spoke to her at dinner tomorrow would seem interminable.


	26. Chapter 26

Ulfric stopped his pacing at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, though he heard only one set, a man's. Still, it wouldn't do to be seen pacing by anyone. He waited by the fire and looked up as Jorleif entered, followed by the Dragonborn. The steward bowed slightly to Ulfric then backed out of the room, closing the door behind him, but Ulfric barely noticed, his eyes riveted to the young woman. He had expected her to show up dressed in armor as she had been yesterday, armed to the teeth, ready to flex her power and impress on him once again just who and what she was. Instead there stood a beautiful pink-cheeked girl with her pale blond hair loose on her shoulders, wearing a fine embroidered gown of pale green and yellow overlaid by an impressive cloak of snowy sabre cat fur, armed only with a dagger as any sensible lady would be, though it was that evil-looking black dagger. He didn't doubt that every possible thing she was wearing was enchanted, and certainly the gold circlet, rings and necklace she wore. She looked as fine as any female Jarl could possibly look, and he found it completely disarming. And bewildering. As she had no doubt intended. She smiled shyly at him and he was completely thrown by it all, and didn't know whether to find the novelty of it thrilling or disturbing. Perhaps both. She was breathtaking though. Utterly breathtaking.

He came to his senses and went to her, holding out his hand as he said, "Your cloak, Dragonborn?"

"Brynhilde, please," she murmured.

"If you will call me Ulfric. In private, of course."

"Oh, of course. I will do my utmost to guard your dignity, my Jarl."

Her wry tone made him laugh quietly as he carefully laid the cloak over a chair nearby. "Ah, that is more what I was expecting." He gazed at her for a moment, only a few feet away, and she gazed back with perfect calm. It was odd being able to look straight into a woman's eyes. And what eyes.

"You're looking for it, aren't you," she murmured.

"What would that be?"

"The mer blood." He frowned slightly, the lines in his face accentuating his expression. He wasn't a young man, was old enough to be her father at forty-nine. He wasn't anywhere near as handsome as Vilkas, was not really what she considered handsome at all, but he was a very striking man, strong featured, with lovely expressive eyes, and his voice…ah, such a voice. She couldn't help wondering what it sounded like in the bedroom, murmuring sweet nothings, maybe in the dragon tongue. He wasn't wearing his usual fur and chainmail coat and steel cuirass, instead wearing a fine silver-trimmed tunic and vest of teal blue, a few shades darker than his eyes, and dark gray pants and black boots, along with an Amulet of Talos. A very striking man indeed. It felt strange to finally be so close to her target. To think she could end the war right here and now… If she had any sense she would. Even with only the Blade of Woe at her disposal, she could end his life quickly, mercifully, and be halfway to Whiterun before anyone knew what had happened.

Ulfric laughed shortly, feeling a thrill of mixed amusement and anxiety. "You're thinking about killing me, aren't you!" he whispered. Her eyes had focused on him with a sudden intensity that made him have to stifle a shiver. He imagined it must be the feeling a rabbit has when it realizes that the whisper in the grass that he heard a minute ago was now the sabre cat that had snuck up on him and was only inches away.

"I promised myself I wouldn't until you heard me out."

"Well. I…am glad." He didn't know what else to say. The girl was so damn bizarre. Trying to calm his nerves he said, "To your earlier question…yes, I was looking for it. I have never met a half-Elf, that I know of. As you can imagine the Altmer frown upon race mixing, even the most egalitarian of them." To be honest, he saw very few signs of it in her, only the color of her eyes and hair and her height. He had spent enough time staring at Altmer that she hardly looked Elven at all.

"Have you ever met the more egalitarian of them? Or only the sadists among them?" The muscles along his jaw twitched. She said with regret, "Before you ask, no, this isn't what I came here for. I didn't come here to wound you. I knew I would, unfortunately, but that isn't why I'm here, now, talking to you in private. I wanted you away from your men, and Galmar especially, because I wanted to see and evaluate the real you, with fewer walls in the way. I wanted to see if it was worth my time and effort."

"You mean you want to see if _I_ am worth your time and effort," he said in irritation. "Is that what you're getting at?"

"I wanted to see if letting you live was worth my time and effort, yes." Ulfric blinked but didn't take his gaze off her. She had to admire his courage; most men wouldn't take a statement like that so calmly. "I listened to you and Galmar arguing that day, and your speech about why you fight was rousing, I'll admit. Of course I wasn't there, seeing an entire generation of Nords being slaughtered by the Altmer, like my parents were, and I can't possibly know or understand what that does to a person. This is a good thing, because I am hovering up here," she said, putting her hand at their eye level, "seeing the different players, watching the pieces move on the game board, seeing things from a perspective that the pieces themselves simply cannot see. I've had the benefit of listening to every single side of this conflict, even the most distasteful side, and all I can see the way things are going now is yet another generation of Nord dead, and Imperial dead, while the Thalmor sit back and rub their hands cackling gleefully as the silly, stupid humans slaughter each other and weaken themselves. This time we're killing each other instead of them having to waste the resources to do it. After all, we breed so much more quickly than they do, so it's best if they sit back and let their numbers rebuild while waiting for ours to fall, without risking any more precious Elven lives."

Ulfric listened to all this with a sick ball of dread twisting in his stomach. He knew all this. The girl was a fool if she thought he didn't know all this, and yet her words made him deeply uneasy. He said in a tone of disgust, "So, you think the simple answer to all this is for me to lay down arms and let the Empire and their Elven masters tell us how to live our lives?"

"Not at all, and it didn't have to be that way. People here were living their lives as they always had. Yes, the worship of Talos had to be done less openly, and that is distasteful, especially to Nords, but until the incident at Markarth the Empire was too lazy to do anything about it. They were too distracted by keeping the Aldmeri Dominion in check to come up here and harass anyone, and wouldn't you know, the Thalmor forced them to send troops up here to quell the 'blasphemy', dividing the Imperial forces quite nicely. The Empire doesn't care who worships Talos. The Thalmor do, and they knew that forbidding the worship of Talos was the thing that would push Nords over the edge. Skyrim is the backbone of the Empire, the birthplace of the Empire, and by breaking Skyrim they take away the single largest threat to them."

"Again, I ask you, do you expect me to lay down arms and let Elven rule continue? I am not an idiot, girl. The Thalmor are at the root of it all, sowing discontent among Men everywhere they go, but I will not stand idly by while the Empire allows those goldskins to dictate to us. I will never lie down before Elves!"

"But you see, you already have. You've been dancing to their tune all along."

Ulfric's eyes widened in fury as his nostrils flared. "I should kill you," he hissed. She didn't realize what she was saying, but her words sent a hot flush of rage through him that took all his willpower to control.

"It's a good thing that you already know that you can't. And really, would you? Would you kill the Dragonborn if you could? What would the Nord people think of you if you murdered me the way you murdered the High King?"

"That was fair and honorable combat in the old Nord way!" he shouted. "I am sick of the lies. I did not murder the boy, I used the _thu'um_, yes, and I am not proud of that, but all it did was knock him down, and I ran him through with my sword. I challenged him, man to man, as is our custom!"

"That hasn't been our custom in a very long time and you know it. Does might make right? Is that all it takes to be High King, simple brute strength? We would be constantly ruled by thugs and warlords if that still held true. The Moot is necessary because it guarantees we don't end up with a tyrant on the throne."

"And that is one of the reasons you do not support me," Ulfric said with resentment. "You believe I would become a tyrant."

"I believe that Windhelm is an example what Skyrim would become. I see other races bullied and harassed, I see murderers freely roaming the streets while the guards plead helplessness, as if the war is more important than protecting their own citizens. I see women living in fear while men swagger around. I see ridiculous amounts of coin spent on war rather than to fix crumbling walls and feed hungry people. I see Stormcloaks acting like the Thalmor. I see a High King who believes he is King of only the Nords and everyone else can go to hell."

He sneered, "And you think we would be better off if that milk-drinking boy was left on the throne?"

"That 'milk-drinking boy' bravely faced you in combat, knowing you were going to kill him. That boy worshiped Talos in private. That boy admired you and would have listened to you, and I have that from the court wizard's own mouth, but instead of talking to him you just removed him. You gave him no chance at all to discuss your concerns."

"I should sit and talk to some child?"

"Does it make you more of a man that you just killed a child instead? You made an example of him, just as you said. You showed all of Skyrim how you would rule: by brute force. I don't find that reassuring. A great many people don't. Even some of the Jarls under your own banner think you're in this only for yourself, for personal glory and power, and no, I won't tell you who they are, because maybe you'll just kill them too." She could tell that didn't sit well with Ulfric at all. But he was listening. It was more than she had expected. Much, much more.

"And who would you have on the throne now, Torygg's woman? Some soft, brainless girl-child who does everything Tullius tells her to?"

"No, actually, I wouldn't. Elisif can't be High Queen. I like her well enough, I suppose, and she cares deeply about her people, but she's very young, and she doesn't exactly engender respect in anyone, and she does rely too heavily on General Tullius' advice, and that of her steward. Eventually she might be a good Jarl of Haafingar, maybe, but nothing more."

"So who then? If not me or Elisif, who? You?" He laughed shortly and said in a tone of sudden realization, "That's why you've ingratiated yourself to all the Jarls. So when it comes time to make peace, and the red and blue can't agree, you can hold yourself up as the neutral option. I can't believe I didn't see it before this." It was appalling, and yet he had to admire. It was brilliant.

Bryn said in a thoughtful tone, "No, that wasn't my intent, but it does make sense, doesn't it? A High Queen who is beholden to all, and none. A High Queen who puts the good of the people before her own hunger for vengeance." Honestly she hadn't even thought about it before now, and the idea made the domineering, ambitious dragon in her very happy indeed, while also horrifying her. No way in hell she wanted to be Queen. She would rather put Balgruuf on the throne as High King, someone nearly as neutral as she was, but she feared if he was put forward as the candidate that it would make him miserable, and there was no guarantee the Moot would choose him. It was highly likely that the two sides would continue arguing and fighting and the civil war would never end.

"You think that's all this is for me? I'm lashing out at the Empire instead of the Thalmor, because they're all I can get my hands on, is that it? Do I strike you as that…that stupid? I fought and bled for the Empire! If I thought the Empire could make this right I would make peace. I will never give myself up to the headsman's axe, but I would make peace. You heard me tell Galmar so. But you and I both know that the Empire can't fix this."

"Yes, I know, and they will be even less able to after both the Empire and Skyrim have been decimated by civil war. Do you really think Skyrim could hold off the Dominion once you're on the throne?"

"Can it with _you_ on the throne?" he countered. It wasn't as if her question hadn't kept him awake more nights than he could count.

"No, but it can with me on the battlefield, backed by a combined Nord and Imperial army. We've had nearly thirty years to build back up our populations. How many mer do you think have been born in that time, especially since the Altmer are so picky in their breeding habits?" Ulfric stared at her, still angry but seeming to consider her words. She said in a careful tone, "I have had more than one Thalmor agent tell me that the Empire exists because they allow it to. They don't call the Great War by that name. They call it the First War with the Empire. When do you think the Second might take place, and will we be able to defend ourselves when the time comes?" She turned away, hungry, and went to her cloak, fishing around for one of the internal pockets lining it. She pulled out a worn leather binder and held it to her chest, feeling more nervous than she had expected to be, and a little reluctant to part with something she had carried for so long. "I would like to have something to eat, Jarl Ulfric, though dinner is no doubt cold by now. I'm heading to Winterhold tomorrow, so it will be a long day. I would like you to read this while I eat, if you can. Can you read Altmeris?"

"Yes," he said in distaste. He read and spoke it fluently. He had learned to speak it while a Thalmor prisoner, and had made a point of learning to read it as well once he was free, to know his enemy as best he could. Bryn held the binder out to him, looking worried, and the change in her expression made him uneasy. "What is it?" he asked warily as he took it from her.

"I found this in the Thalmor Embassy, in a chest in Elenwen's Solar. I've been carrying it everywhere I've gone, for nearly a year now, which is why it's a bit battered. I've read and re-read it, for the final time last night. To keep my objective clear. Perhaps it will help clarify yours."

Ulfric waited until the Dragonborn sat down and was serving herself. He noted with disquiet that she had seated herself facing away from him. As if she didn't want to see his expression as he read it. Or to give him privacy. He said to her, "You didn't tell me what it is." His voice didn't sound as steady as he would have liked.

"It's about you. You know that." She heard him swallow even from as far away as she was. She gently offered, "If you'd like to wait until I leave to read it, fine, but I would like you to promise on your honor that you will read it tonight." He didn't answer, and she heard the creak of leather as he opened it. She served herself cold meat and vegetables and began to eat, hearing Ulfric's breathing grow uneven, then almost labored. As if he were having a panic attack. Then she heard the dossier thrown across the room. She continued eating, having to nearly choke the food down. She couldn't even begin to imagine what he was thinking, what he was feeling, any more than she could have when Vilkas described being a captive of necromancers. She was nearly done with her meal and pouring herself some mead when she finally heard him move.

Ulfric sat down hard in the chair opposite Bryn, the roaring in his ears finally starting to subside, his racing heart slowing. It was frightening how close he had come to completely breaking down. He'd felt for just a moment that he was in serious danger of losing his mind. And then he had seen the girl from behind, seen that bright, silken Altmer hair, and had felt like strangling her. Except she wasn't Altmer, couldn't even really stand in for one, and certainly not the one he wanted so badly to have in front of him right now. Then he had felt a surge of rage against the girl, wondering what kind of twisted game she was playing with him, wondering if she was a Thalmor agent, holding loyalty to her father's people, trying to make him doubt himself. Then he had reminded himself that she was Dragonborn, Nord by virtue of her mother's blood, that her Altmer father had died fighting the Dominion, that she had done nothing but harry the Thalmor, had killed them every chance she had gotten. If she were a Thalmor agent she would have watched his reaction and gloated, just as Elenwen had so many, many times.

Bryn kept her eyes on her empty plate and gently said, "I never wanted to hurt you, Ulfric. I'm sorry."

He huffed and said in a rough voice, "And _there_ is your true reason for coming here, for not killing me. You feel sorry for me. You _pity_ me." She shrugged one shoulder and sipped her mead, not denying it. He sat back in the chair and rubbed his eyes, feeling drained and ill, not knowing what to think or feel, about the girl or any of the rest of it. He wanted to hate her for this. This had wounded him, terribly, and he could only hope that he would eventually be grateful that she had given the dossier to him in private, to leave him his dignity. To safeguard it just as she had joked she would. Well, he supposed if anyone could it was her. Nearly a year she had carried around that dossier, reading it over and over, and for what?

When he said nothing more, Bryn stated, "If it's any consolation, I will kill Elenwen one day. I'll even bring you her head if you'd like."

"You would do me a greater service by delivering her to me alive, gagged and bound."

"Yes, I'm sure that's something you've fantasized about plenty over the years, however that I will not do. You would poison your soul if you inflicted on her whatever she did to you."

He said with extreme bitterness, "Would you like to know the things she did to me, Dragonborn? The things she told others to do to me, while she watched? Would you like to know why I've hardly touched a woman in thirty years? Would you like to see the scars I still carry?"

Her heart aching, she murmured, "I will if you think it would help." She finally raised her eyes to his and he stared back with haunted eyes, his jaw clenched. Such pain in those eyes, which were actually quite beautiful, the color of a sunlit sea, equal parts blue and green. She had never seen such a wounded look in anyone's eyes, so much suffering. "I've seen many, many torture chambers over the last year. I stand there in the middle of them and look at all the… things, and my mind can't begin to comprehend their purpose. I was never struck as a child, never even a single swat on the bottom. I came to Skyrim a virgin and have known only love and gentleness in a man's arms. Enlighten me, if you must, about what Elenwen did to you, but only if you're doing it to unburden yourself, to help yourself heal, and not just to traumatize me. I'm the Agent of Mara, and Dibella, and I'll listen if it will help you." He made a sound of pain and looked away, blinking, his eyes shining. "Have you ever told anyone everything that happened?"

"No, and I never will," he whispered. "What is the point?" Galmar knew most of it, but not all of it, though he most likely suspected it. Galmar would listen, if he wanted to talk about it. Galmar had tried endlessly to get him to talk about it after they came back, and he had, only once, and still hadn't been able to get it all out. He sure as hell wasn't going to tell this girl.

Bryn didn't answer, taking another drink of mead, then she set hers down and got up to pour him a mug, coming around to his side of the table to do so. She set the mug in front of him and he didn't move to take it. The look on his face was absolutely heart-wrenching and it made her writhe with guilt. This wasn't at all what she had wanted to happen, and naively hadn't really expected the strength of his reaction. She picked up the drink again and knelt in front of him, and Ulfric glared at her as she took his hands and wrapped them around the mug, but he didn't pull away. "Please," she begged. "I know you won't give in to the Empire, but all I ask is some time. A truce, something, anything. Stop the fighting for just a little while." _Please don't make me kill you!_ Now that she had seen him up close, talked to him, seen the torment in his eyes, the thought of having to basically assassinate him turned her stomach.

"And then what?" he responded just as quietly. "Wait for Tullius' forces to close in on me? Wait for him to string up my corpse on the battlements of Castle Dour for the crows to pick at, as a lesson to others about obedience?"

"I wouldn't allow him to kill you, any more than I would do so."

Ulfric snorted a laugh of disbelief, stunned. "You think to protect me, Dragonborn? That is…" He couldn't help laughing again, bemused, at the absurdity of all this. The girl's warm hands were still wrapped around his, surprisingly soft even with a warrior's calluses, and he could smell the scent of lavender rising from her hair, feel the warmth rising from her body. He tried to remember the last time he had been this close to a woman and couldn't quite recall. He hadn't lain with a woman in well over a year, some random tumble with a nameless female Stormcloak soldier who had sneaked into his tent while on campaign. She had gotten what she wanted and left again, which had been perfectly fine with him, and he'd never known who it was, hadn't seen her face in the dark and hadn't bothered to find out.

This though…this was something strange to him, something completely foreign. A beautiful girl who was strong enough to kill him, holding his hands and vowing to protect him. Gods, she was beautiful, her skin like cream, her cheeks faintly pink, like apple blossoms. He had thought her eyes would repel him, but they were not any more tilted than some Nord women's he had seen, and not all Altmer had golden eyes. Her hair fell in loose waves around her face and over her shoulders, soft and silken, begging him to wind his fingers in it. She looked the epitome of fresh young Nordic womanhood. And then her words came back to him: _I came to Skyrim a virgin._ The thought sent a sudden sharp pang of lust through him that took his breath away, it was so completely unexpected and intense. An Agent of Mara and Dibella, Dragonborn, and...by the Nine, she was lovely.

Bryn sat back on her heels and shivered as Ulfric's gaze traveled over her, and when she took her hands away from his he caught her wrist. He took a drink of mead, his eyes never leaving her, and when he licked his lips and set down the mug she whispered, "I um, I should…go. I need to go." He laughed quietly, the deep sound making goose bumps rise on her skin. Such a voice!

"What's wrong, Dragonborn? Ah, Brynhilde," he corrected. He drew out the name and saw her swallow and look away, blushing. "So innocent, and yet so deadly. Have you truly only ever been with that Companion of yours?" he murmured, keeping hold of her wrist as he put his finger under her chin to turn her face back to him. She stared at him with dilated eyes, her pale pink lips parting as if to either speak or accept a kiss, and when he lightly ran his thumb over them she finally pulled away and stood, backing away from him. He was shocked to see tears rising in her eyes. He hadn't expected that at all. He sighed and picked up the mug again, trying to ignore the hard ache he so rarely felt. "I apologize," he muttered. He really wasn't sure what had come over him. Well, it wasn't as if he was practiced in the art of dealing with women. She shook her head, biting her lip and twining her fingers together in front of her like a young maiden, and it made him feel like a beast, but then that was exactly what he was, or so Elenwen had often told him. It was a rather bewildering feeling to see the girl acting so shy, setting him off balance all over again. How could the Dragonborn, someone so powerful, be so girlish and maidenly? She certainly hadn't been when she had launched herself over the table at Galmar.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have… I was too familiar, and I'm sorry," she said brokenly. "I do things like that and…and…I didn't think. I just…I only wanted to help." She had needed to help, and it made her wish she had never become an Agent of Mara. She swallowed hard again, a tear slipping down her cheek, suddenly feeling like bawling. She scrubbed it away and bowed slightly to him, avoiding his eyes, then turned on her heel and moved to pick up her cloak. "Thank you for your hospitality," she whispered.

"Wait." She shook her head, fumbling to put the cloak on. Ulfric crossed the room and stopped her, putting his hands on her shoulders, and she sighed heavily and sniffed, looking past him at the fire. He quietly repeated, "I apologize. You did nothing wrong. You sought to provide comfort with no intent." Which he was still having trouble coming to grips with. _Agent of Mara and Dibella_...the whisper wouldn't leave the back of his mind. She was an Agent of the goddesses of compassion and love, and Dragonborn. If only she weren't with the Companion, she might... Well, it was no use thinking about it. She was with the Companion, and she deserved better than to get into bed with an old man with a past like his. It turned his stomach to think of subjecting so fine a creature to his mental and emotional wounds. No woman should have to deal with them, or any man either for that matter.

"I should have known better. I still…even now I still don't understand sometimes how things work. Between people. Human people. I'm so… ignorant," she said angrily. She felt like an idiot for not expecting that being close to Ulfric in a deeply emotional state might cause something like that to happen. And she had responded to it. She had wanted someone other than Vilkas, because someone else had finally wanted her and had shown it, and it had to be him of all people. The man that by all rights she should just kill right now and thereby put an end to all the strife. But those eyes…after seeing the painful depths in them she didn't think she could ever bring herself to do it. The wounded look there had drawn her like a moth to a candle.

Bewildered by her statement, Ulfric said, "You were raised by Altmer, and I can only guess at what that was like, but you did nothing wrong. If anything it was wrong of me to lay hands on a woman who belongs to another." She gave a bitter laugh at that and shook her head, and he let his hands fall away. He still ached with longing, but it was more in his chest than his groin at this point. The girl had him completely turned around. He knew that had been her intent in coming here but surely it hadn't been in this way. He certainly hadn't expected it to happen, and with such suddenness.

"Belong to him," she muttered. "Wouldn't that be nice. Goodnight, Ulfric."

"Goodnight," he stammered, taken off guard by her sudden departure. He stared at the door, hints of lavender in the air. So there was discord between her and the Companion. Interesting. It was odd that they had been together so long without marrying. That wasn't how it was done up here, but the Companions weren't generally the marrying kind, though the other twin had reportedly done so and was studying with the Master Smith, whose sons were now among Ulfric's soldiers. The Dragonborn clearly felt she didn't belong to Vilkas, perhaps because the warrior wouldn't marry her. Before tonight he would have found it laughable that the Dragonborn would want something so ordinary, so settled. Wanted to belong to a man. Wanted marriage.

Ulfric sighed and returned to the table to pick at the remains of dinner. So Brynhilde was heading to Winterhold tomorrow. He couldn't help wondering why. She was already thane of that hold. Perhaps it had something to do with her recent visit to High Hrothgar. He wished things hadn't gone south, two nights in a row, so that he could ask her about the Greybeards, about her adventures. Perhaps next time she returned to Windhelm they could try dinner again, see if they could have a normal conversation about the places she had been, the things she had seen and done. He tired sometimes of constantly living and breathing war. Constantly being surrounded by men, and male things.

He briefly envied her ability to simply pick up and leave when she wished. Since he couldn't do so, maybe he could live vicariously through her. Her presence here enlivened what he admitted was a cold, overly masculine place. The only female company he was used to were his female soldiers, and even they were always at a distance, reporting to Galmar instead. Of course many of them looked at him with stars in their eyes, but none caught his interest. This girl though…his interest was certainly caught. And he had not the slightest idea what to do about it. He didn't know if he even should. She was another man's woman, even if she wasn't his wife. But then again, there was discord there. If the Companion hadn't married her by now, he most likely never would. If that truly was the case, he was a fool.

As he stood to leave the room the dossier in the corner caught his eye, making his jaw clench. He stared at it, tempted to throw it in the fire. He had to do something with it. He couldn't leave it lying around for a servant to find, and yet he couldn't bring himself to burn it either. The Dragonborn had thought it important enough to carry it with her for the last year, everywhere she went. Ulfric hesitated then picked it up, forcing himself to open it and read it once more. Sweat broke out all over his body as he saw the word _asset_ over and over again. He was an asset to the Thalmor. _You've been dancing to their tune all along._

He shut the cover and impulsively threw the dossier in the fire, but every word of it was now etched into his brain. _Asset._ Allowed to escape. _Asset._ Indirect aid to the Stormcloaks. _Asset. Asset..._ He felt a hot surge of resentment go through him towards Bryn, wanted to hate her for doing this to him, but he couldn't. It was always better to know the truth than to hide from it like some milk-drinker. She had given it to him reluctantly, knowing it would hurt him, regretting that it would, wanting to comfort him afterward, and she didn't even know him. The only comfort he really had at this point was the knowledge that he wasn't the reason the White-Gold Tower fell. By time they had finally broken him the city had already been taken. He had always tormented himself over that, blamed himself, though he had been little more than a boy at the time. Younger than Torygg.

Ulfric stood there until the dossier was completely consumed, stirring the remains to break it up completely. He left the room, leaving the door open for the servants, and went straight to his private quarters, ignoring Galmar's calls asking what happened, why the Dragonborn was gone so soon. He would tell his oldest and closest friend tomorrow about the meeting, tell him to hold off on attacking Whiterun, and he couldn't honestly say how Galmar would react. The housecarl's first instinct would probably be to suggest it was a trick, that the girl was playing games with him, trying to make him doubt his course. Well, he doubted. The seeds had always lay there, but now they had firmly taken root.

* * *

_**A/N: I have honestly never completed the Civil War quest line for either side, always feeling a little dirty after the Battle of Whiterun no matter which side I chose. The war just seemed such an immense waste of lives and resources (as are all wars, I suppose). I also couldn't stomach either Tullius or Ulfric getting their heads chopped off. So I went a different direction in this story. I hope it seems realistic to readers.**_


	27. Chapter 27

Vilkas ran down the steps of Jorrvaskr then sprinted in front of a startled Heimskr and up the steps to Dragonsreach, trying desperately to catch up with Bryn. She had been gone for nearly seven weeks this time, and this time… The entire city had run to the eastern and southern walls three nights ago, crowding to watch the fire raining down on the peak of the Throat of the World, to listen to the thunder and roaring that echoed even this far away. Two specks had circled the peak of the mountain, and every so often the black one would light up in blue then fall. Vilkas had watched in terror and anxiety, knowing what had to be happening, though Bryn hadn't told him it would be happening then. He hadn't seen her since she had set off again for Windhelm, after dealing with the Dark Brotherhood. He hadn't heard from her since either, and after the battle at the Throat of the World he had feared she was dead, while unable to bring himself to truly believe it. And now little Mila Valentia had run up to Jorrvaskr to tell them that the Dragonborn was back, that she was acting funny and wouldn't talk to anyone other than to say she needed to see the Jarl.

Vilkas caught up with Bryn on the walkway, and when he called her name she ignored him. He ran and resisted the urge to grab her arm, instead dashing around in front of her and putting his hands on her shoulders. She seemed to almost look through him and kept walking, and he was bewildered by how hard it was to stop her, how strong she was. Her face was dirty and her dragonscale armor scorched and dented, and she was splattered with dried blood, though she seemed unharmed otherwise. "Stop, damn it!" he shouted, giving her a shake, and she gasped and blinked, seeming to finally see him.

"Vilkas!"

"Yes, Vilkas," he said in a tone of disquiet. Her eyes fixed on him for only a few seconds before they started to lose focus again. "No no no," he said hastily, worried to death, and when he gave her another shake she lifted her hands and ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. "Did you do it? Is Alduin gone?"

"No. I fought him and he flew away. I have to catch a dragon in the palace to tell me how to get to where he went."

"What?" he whispered fearfully.

"He can't be killed here, on Nirn, by me or anyone else. He told me so. He said he's been feeding on the souls of Nord dead. Where would one do that?" Vilkas stared at her with horror in his gray eyes, his hands falling away. "Paarthurnax told me that I'm doom-driven. Alduin nearly killed me up there, but then I nearly killed him. I need to finish this. I need to go to Sovngarde."

He stood numbly as she walked around him and into the palace, then he shook himself and went after her. Alduin had nearly killed her. He caught up to her as she strode through the main hall, the guards and servants going silent as they watched her pass. The smell of sweat and sulfur trailed after her. Her hair was braided haphazardly and nearly brown with filth. He had no idea at all what she had been up to for the last nearly two months, and had to wonder if he would ever find out. _Doom-driven._ It made his heart feel like it was going to beat its way out of his chest. She was so driven by her doom that she barely acknowledged him, or anyone else. It was as if her eyes could no longer focus completely on anyone around her.

Vilkas stayed back by the fire as Bryn strode up the steps of the dais, where Balgruuf stood in alarm at the sight of her. Irileth was tense, watching Bryn with narrowed eyes, her hand on her sword, something Vilkas would have found laughable under different circumstances. The hard, stony strength he had felt in Bryn's body came back to him, and he couldn't wrap his mind around it. Any of it.

"Great Divines," Jarl Balgruuf breathed as he looked Bryn over. "Where have you been?" She looked like hell. She looked worse than she had after that first dragon she had fought, and that was saying a lot.

"I need your help," she stated. "I need to trap a dragon in your palace."

He stared at her in shock as his court gasped, then he said in disbelief, "I must have misheard you, friend. I thought you asked me to help you trap a dragon in my palace?"

"No, you didn't mishear me. If I'm going to stop the dragons for good, I need to catch one and question it."

Balgruuf shook his head and sank back down onto his throne. "I'm sorry, but I can't do it. I can't risk it. We'll just have to keep fighting the dragons as best we can."

"We? Where is the _we_ in all this?" He stared at her, his eyes narrowing. "You know I wouldn't ask this if it wasn't important, if it wasn't necessary. I would never put Whiterun, its citizens, or you at risk if I didn't have to."

He sighed heavily and leaned his elbow on the arm of the throne, saying, "You have to see where I'm coming from, my friend. How can I let a dragon into the heart of my city, with the threat of war on my doorstep?"

"It's the only way to stop the dragon attacks, permanently. It's the only way to stop Alduin. I fought him to a standstill up there, at the Throat of the World. I had him on the ground, I had him beaten, and I still couldn't kill him." She kept the knowledge of Paarthurnax to herself, for now. It was no one else's business, and she felt strangely protective of the ancient creature. Vilkas had sworn to keep it to himself, and Ulfric obviously knew about it, and that was enough.

"So…that is what we all heard and saw up there. You truly fought the World-Eater?" If so, that really meant that these were the end times. It made him want to weep with the hopelessness of it all.

"Yes. I found an Elder Scroll and read it up there, to learn the Shout to ground a dragon. I think I might be slightly mad now because of it, but collateral damage I suppose." She still had the Scroll, in the pack currently on her back, afraid to let it out of her sight. _The very bones of the earth are at your disposal_, Paarthurnax had said. That was a power she really didn't want. She didn't want the responsibility of carrying this thing around. Maybe someone at the College of Winterhold would know what to do with it, possibly Urag gro-Shub. The Orc librarian had been very grave on the matter and would know what she should do with it, or at least point her in the right direction. She supposed he would have to, since she was the damn Archmage of the College now. How the hell that had happened when she could cast only about half a dozen spells was beyond her. She actually knew dozens of spells but hadn't used magic enough to have the skill or enough magicka for the vast majority of them. She couldn't figure out how she kept getting caught up in this kind of crap.

Balgruuf looked at her in alarm, trying not to show it, then his gaze went past her to the Companion, who was staring at her back, his entire body stiff, his fists clenched, his expression a mirror of Balgruuf's own. Vilkas met the Jarl's eyes and Balgruuf tore his gaze away from the Companion's haunted one. He said to Bryn, "There must be another way. The risk is too great. To Whiterun and to you."

"The risk to me is irrelevant." The Jarl made a sound of dismay and shook his head, his expression tense. "I'm Dragonborn. It's my destiny to stop him. I nearly did. He fears me. He flew away. I need to follow and finish him." He licked his lips, hesitant. She moved closer to the throne, making Irileth tense. "Please, my Jarl. This is the only way. The Greybeards themselves, their leader…they say it's the only way."

Feeling a wave of despair come over him, he quietly said, "I don't know about such things, but you have the ear of the Greybeards, and you're Dragonborn, and…you're my friend. That's good enough for me." Bryn let out a long breath of relief, her eyes looking a little less wild. "Now, about this nonsense of trapping a dragon in my palace. I want to help you, Brynhilde, and I will. But I need your help first. Ulfric and General Tullius both are just waiting for me to make a wrong move. Do you think they will sit idle while a dragon is slaughtering my men and burning my city? No, they will not. I can't risk weakening the city while we are under the threat of enemy attack. I'm sorry."

Bryn nodded, feeling the tension she had been holding inside start to ease up a bit. In a strange way Balgruuf's firm stance reassured her. This was a man who never rushed into anything, who always put the good of his people, his city and his hold first. "I understand, my Jarl. But what if you didn't have to worry about an enemy attack?"

He stared at her for a moment then said, "Go on."

"I think I can arrange a truce, at least long enough to get this done."

"Well then, if you can pull that off I would be glad to help you with your mad dragon-trapping scheme." He smiled slightly at her and added, "I would hate to leave you alone in your madness, eh?" She laughed, her eyes shining, still a sight in her filth and damaged armor, maybe even more so because of it. His smile faded as he went on, "But getting both sides to agree to a truce will be difficult at this point. The bitterness has gone too deep."

"I haven't met General Tullius yet, but I've heard he's a reasonable man, not ruled by his passions, if he even has any."

"Yes, he is a reasonable man, and I think he will listen to you. Ulfric however…those waters run deep, and dark. He will not stop this war of his so easily."

"I've already spoken to Jarl Ulfric. I had dinner with him several weeks ago, before I set out to retrieve the Scroll. I believe I may have some…influence with him. I certainly left him with plenty to think about while I was away." It had given her plenty to think about as well, little of it comfortable. She had certainly had plenty of time to think while lost for a week in that wretched Blackreach and its connected Dwemer cities. The place had left her awestruck with its otherworldly beauty at first, but by time she had made her way out of the Tower of Mzark she had hated it for all she was worth. It had taken hours for her eyes to fully readjust to sunlight. She was glad that she had gathered all thirty of the crimson nirnroots for Avrusa Sarethi, because nothing could make her go back.

Balgruuf glanced at Vilkas, and he could tell that tidbit didn't sit well with the Companion. Vilkas was a very handsome man, one of the most handsome the Jarl had ever seen, but Ulfric wasn't without formidable charisma. The Jarl nodded to Bryn and said, "All right then, if you think you can do it. You'll need someplace to hold the talks, to broker the truce. Maybe…hmm." He stroked his beard. "What of the Greybeards? They are respected by all Nords, Ulfric especially for obvious reasons. High Hrothgar is neutral territory. If the Greybeards were willing to host a peace council, Ulfric and Tullius would have to listen."

"Leave that to me. I'll talk to Master Arngeir and see if he's willing to host it."

"Aye, Dragonborn. Maybe you can stop the dragons, and this war into the bargain."

"I will do everything in my power to accomplish both, my Jarl."

"That power is considerable, my friend. Gods go with you. In the meantime, we'll start preparing here. My men will be ready when you are."

Bryn bowed to him then turned away and went down the steps, and as she passed Vilkas she gave him a small smile. She had that much sense at least. He let out a shuddering breath and fell into step beside her, and as they left Dragonsreach she wrinkled her nose and said, "You're still wearing that wolf armor."

"Yes." Vilkas hesitated then asked, "You're not leaving again right away are you?"

"No, in the morning. After I repair my armor. For now I just want a bath and food and sleep, in that order."

"Can I at least talk to you while you do the first two?"

"Yes, why wouldn't you be able to?"

"Because…you're…never mind. I'm sorry." He had no right to pull any kind of attitude with her, not after what he had seen just from a distance the other night, and her right at the center of it. He had no idea how she was still alive.

Bryn said with regret, "Well, I'm sorry too. I'm a bit off right now. You can't even imagine the sheer… _shit_ I've been through lately. I can't honestly say I'm ever going to be the same, but…" She laughed, the sound slightly hysterical even to her ears. "I was going to say give me time, but I can't really say I have it. I carry Time on my back, an object outside of Time, and yet none for me."

"Mighty Akatosh," Vilkas choked in horror. "You still have that…_thing_ with you?"

"Oh yes. I still see its patterns moving across my vision when I close my eyes, but not as bad as it was even yesterday. At least I didn't lose my eyesight for long after I read it. Can't really do my job blind, can I?" Vilkas made a sound of dismay and stopped her on the landing above the pools. She gazed at him, trying to keep her eyes from looking crazy, wondering if the attempt was only making it worse. "I'm going to take it to the College of Winterhold on my way from Tullius to Ulfric. The librarian there is an expert on the Scrolls, as expert as one can be on something so esoteric. He'll know what to do with it. I don't dare take it with me where I think I'm going. With my luck Aetherius will implode on itself or something." She rubbed her nose, her skin itching all over. She couldn't remember the last time she had bathed properly, or at all. "When was it?" she whispered, her eyes losing focus.

"When was what?" he replied in kind, terrified for her, close to tears and not caring who saw it.

"The last bath. The last food…I think the Greybeards made me eat, after I came down from the peak. After Alduin scampered away."

"That was three days ago."

"Oh. I'm sure…well surely I've eaten since then." She closed her eyes, murmuring, "Maybe not. Am I even hungry? Or tired? I don't think I've slept since I left High Hrothgar. There's knowing a thing, then feeling that thing. I know it but can't feel it. I can't say I feel much of anything at all right now. But maybe that's good. Maybe it's…better this way. Maybe…"

Bryn swayed on her feet and Vilkas gasped, reaching out to catch her. Her eyes fluttered open again and she pushed away from him, but he grabbed her arm and said, "Come on, now. Down to Jorrvaskr. Home."

"Your home."

"Our home," he corrected, his voice breaking. She shrugged and let him lead her to the mead hall, his expression telling everyone they passed to leave them alone. He saw his twin up at the Skyforge, watching with concern, and he motioned with his head for Farkas' help. Bryn responded to Farkas in a way she did to no other, and he needed his brother's strength, both physical and emotional. As he entered the front doors he heard the jingle of armor as Farkas ran up, his brother having switched to short-sleeved steel and fur armor long ago; he'd helped his mentor melt down the wolf armor, in honor of Kodlak's final wishes. Vilkas hadn't yet. He simply couldn't bring himself to do it. Eorlund kept eyeing him with disapproval, and he kept ignoring it. He would get around to it one of these days.

Bryn didn't say another word as the twins got her downstairs, seeming lost in some internal world and unaware of what they were doing, as if now that she was home and safe she could let her mind go. Farkas didn't protest helping get Bryn out of her armor and into the bath, and held her up out of the water for Vilkas to wash when she nearly let herself slide into it, still staring at something neither of them could see. The water was cloudy when they finished and they had to stand her up to rinse her completely clean. Vilkas didn't bother calling Tilma for food; Bryn was clearly in no state to eat it. They got her dried and into Vilkas' bed, not bothering to dress her either, and she lazily grabbed the pack out of Farkas' hands then rolled over and went to sleep with it clutched in her arms.

"What the hell," Farkas whispered, his jaw clenched. This was just about the most disturbing thing he had ever seen.

Vilkas choked, "I think she's gone a little mad. I don't know what to do."

"How!"

"She has an Elder Scroll in that bag. It's…I don't know how to explain it, I don't even know what they are myself. She read it, and she thinks it's driven her mad. She fought Alduin on the mountain. That's what we saw the other night."

"So what tells me it isn't over yet?"

"Alduin fled. She wants to use the Great Porch to trap a dragon, to find out where he went, but… she keeps implying he went to Sovngarde. She can't go to Sovngarde, she isn't…" Dead. Surely she couldn't go there if she was alive. But surely she wouldn't die simply so she could go there and fight Alduin!

"I'm going to go get Danica," Farkas stated firmly. "Stay here and stay calm, all right?"

Vilkas nodded and his twin hurried out of the room. He began to pace, to give himself something to do, his heart beating so hard and fast again that he felt close to passing out. Surely she wasn't going to die in order to finish off Alduin. If she had fought Alduin to near defeat at the Throat of the World and lived, she could do it again. If Alduin was going to Sovngarde to feast on souls, there had to be a portal he was using. Alduin was a physical creature. He didn't need to die to access that place, so why would Bryn? He kept telling himself that while he waited for his brother to fetch the healer.

While he waited he heard soft footsteps and the door pushed open. Aela let herself in, coming around the screen to look at the sleeping form on the bed. Vilkas said, "You can talk. I doubt anything will wake her at this point."

"The whole city is in an uproar," she stated, being quiet anyway. She scratched the side of her growing belly and went on, "The guards say the Jarl is clearing out the Great Porch and getting ready to test the trap. To catch a dragon." Vilkas nodded. "Where has she been this whole time?"

"Gods only know," he said with tired anxiety. "Windhelm, for a bit. Winterhold. She says she has an Elder Scroll in that bag, but I don't know where she found it. She said she read it and it drove her a little mad."

Aela gazed at him with worry then asked, "Was it only a little?"

"I can't tell yet, but yes, definitely a little, at the least."

"If her mind doesn't recover, or if she doesn't live—"

"Don't talk like that!"

"—you're going to have to take the reins," she finished without pausing. Vilkas made a sputtering sound of denial and threw himself into a chair. "You've been doing it every time she leaves. She laid the groundwork and you've been following it. You've been running Jorrvaskr for the last few months, not her." Aela had to admit that if Vilkas hadn't purged himself of the beastblood that he would have been completely incapable of leadership. As it was now everyone was starting to truly respect him, even Aela. Well, at least with regard to running the Companions. The way he was managing his relationship with Bryn still left a lot to be desired. Aela still couldn't quite figure out what the hell he thought he was doing. It seemed there was a strong bond there and yet he wasn't making it permanent. It made no sense.

"I know," he muttered, leaning an elbow on the table to rub his eyes.

"We all knew she wasn't going to stay Harbinger forever." He didn't answer, his eyes closed. "Did she say anything to you?"

"Only that she has to find Alduin. She defeated him on the mountain and he escaped. She has to finish it."

"Are you finally going to propose to her?" He growled and quickly rose from the seat. Aela said angrily, "It's what she wants, damn it! Will you not give her at least that peace of mind before she goes?"

"Peace of mind? How can she have peace of mind now? You want me to pledge my troth to a crazy woman who might die?"

Her eyes narrowed, she said in contempt, "So you're a fair-weather lover, is that it? You're the reason she won't stay, Vilkas!"

"That is a lie," he said furiously. "She doesn't stay because she is trying to save us all."

"I mean after that. When she's done saving us all, what does she have to come back to? What hope does she have? Why even come back at all?"

Vilkas stared at her with wild eyes, his nostrils flared. "Is this what you came here for? To verbally assault me?"

"No, I came here to check on her. I want what's best for her. Well, maybe you're not it. Not anymore."

He sneered at her, saying, "And who do you think would be? You?"

"I've already told you I would have her in a heartbeat, but she doesn't go that way." She was also waiting to see how her relationship with Mjoll was going to work out. They had only been able to meet a few more times since Farkas' wedding, and the Lioness didn't yet know Aela was a werewolf, though she knew about the pregnancy. Aela wasn't about to tell Mjoll about her nature until it seemed it was going to be serious, but for now it couldn't be; Aela would never leave the Companions, and Mjoll couldn't yet leave Riften, especially with Bryn not there. Mjoll's nightly patrols were the only thing keeping the Thieves Guild in check. Her times with Mjoll were good times though. Warm and comfortable. It would be nice to have something like that permanently, have a partner to help her raise Skjorta. Farkas had already offered to be a father figure to the baby, as much as he could, which Aela appreciated. He was a good man, and understood fidelity and loyalty in a mating, unlike the cad in front of her. Aela wasn't quite sure who Vilkas thought he was, that he could have a woman like that and treat her like a convenience.

"You still haven't answered my question," Vilkas pressed. "If not me, who?"

"I didn't answer your question because maybe it doesn't have an answer. It's up to Bryn. If she's happy with how things are, fine. If not, then she has a choice to make, doesn't she?" And they both knew Bryn was not happy with how things were. She hadn't been for a long time. Maybe since nearly the beginning.

"Get out," he demanded.

Farkas walked in with the priestess Danica Pure-Spring, and he looked between the two glaring at each other and put his hands on his hips. "Great, arguing," he said in disapproval. "While she's trying to sleep too."

Aela said to him, "I was just leaving. Let me know when she wakes up."

"Sure thing." After the Huntress left he eyed his brother, who was as angry as he had seen in a very long time. He left the matter alone and motioned to the priestess, saying to Vilkas, "Start from the beginning. I don't think I told it right."

Vilkas did so, feeling his spirits sink as Danica's expression went from worry to one that was clearly being controlled. He said helplessly, "I don't know what to do, Master Healer. Do you think it's permanent? The… the madness?"

Danica asked rhetorically, "Is it true madness, or is it that she's completely and utterly overwhelmed?" The Companion's worry seemed to lighten at that. "What she's been through that we know of is only part of it, surely. And that is only in the last two months. Think of everything she has been forced to deal with in the last year, starting as a sheltered, unworldly, insecure girl betrayed by the one she considered a brother. How well would any of us have coped with such things, with so many changes? I think she is simply tired and at a breaking point, and probably quite frightened, yet she is Dragonborn and the world as we know it depends on her, not only to deal with Alduin but to be strong, to be a hero." She waved her hand at Bryn, continuing, "That terrible burden she carries… it is one few mortals are prepared for. There is a cult of priests in the Imperial City whose entire purpose is to use the Elder Scrolls for prophecy, indeed they were the ones who foretold the current prophecy we are now caught in the middle of. The adherents spend years preparing themselves to read and interpret the Scrolls. She had no such preparation, in fact no preparation at all, and only her nature allowed her to come through as well as she has."

Vilkas took that in, feeling a weight lift from him. "That all makes a great deal of sense."

"She is a resilient girl. She only needs to rest, but that is the problem. She cannot rest for the time needed to fully recuperate. She hasn't since she came to Skyrim. Always it has been one crisis after another, always her who is the only one who can handle it, always her everyone looks to, and I have been guilty of this myself with the Gildergreen." The priestess shook her head and said sadly, "She takes great joy from helping others. However the joy is always going to be short-lived, because, well…" She looked at Vilkas and added in an awkward tone, "I think that is all I should say. I am a priestess of Kynareth, not Mara."

His face growing hot, Vilkas said in annoyance, "Does everyone know about that? Is nothing private?"

"She has never spoken about your relationship to me directly, or anyone else that I know of, however…well, you've been together a year and have not seen fit to marry each other or create a home together in the old way. That is simple observation, Companion." He grunted and looked away, folding his arms. "It is none of my business, but I was asked here to help her. I think she is exhausted and hopeless. I think she feels like she is living for everyone but herself. Maybe that's only because I am projecting how I would feel onto the situation. When she awakens, she needs to rest. I doubt she will be able to, but she desperately needs rest."

"I will do what I can, but…she said she's leaving tomorrow for High Hrothgar. To broker a truce, after she repairs her armor."

"That can be taken care of," Farkas stated, and he left Danica's side to gather up Bryn's dragonscale armor. "Eorlund can have this fixed before sundown." It was still far beyond Farkas' skill, but he could certainly assist, and learn from it. It would take him years to reach old Gray-Mane's proficiency, or Bryn's, but at least the old smith had never vocally doubted that he would ever get there.

"Yes, thank you, brother," Vilkas said with relief. It was one less thing Bryn would have to do worry about. As his twin left he said to Danica, "Thank you for your advice. I'm still not sure what to do, but I feel a little less hopeless."

"You're welcome," she answered. "Let's pray that she can be made to feel less hopeless as well. I will entreat the goddess Kynareth on her behalf, to help bear up her spirits on the goddess' gentle winds." And perhaps say a little side prayer to Mara that the man in front of her would come to his senses.

"That would be appreciated."

"I'll show myself out."

Vilkas nodded, and once Danica was gone he closed the door, staying there for several minutes, tired and worried. He knew it was unwarranted; Bryn was a hundred times more tired, carried many more burdens, truly terrible ones. A knock against the door behind him made him jump, and he opened the door to see Lydia there. The sight of her sent an almost dizzying wave of relief through him.

"She's not leaving here without me," Lydia stated, her eyes blazing. "Not unless she knocks me out." Vilkas nodded, smiling gratefully at her. Lydia still wished Vilkas would pull his head out of his ass and marry Bryn, but she and Farkas had sworn to stay out of it, and Vilkas had really grown on her in the last few months. He had dinner at their house at least once a week, and she was often up at Jorrvaskr helping Tilma, who had taken a fall down the stairs about five weeks ago and had broken a hip. She had immediately been healed, but at her advanced age healing spells and potions didn't take quite as well, and she had grown increasingly frail lately. Vilkas did his job well, and he was a pleasant, likable brother-in-law, and someday he would be a loving uncle to her and Farkas' children. She just wished that his own and Bryn's could have grown up alongside.

* * *

"I can't believe you let me sleep this long," Bryn fumed as she climbed out of bed over Vilkas, her entire body aching. She didn't think she had moved a muscle all night and felt incredibly stiff. The last she remembered was Farkas helping Vilkas bathe her, and being too out of it to care. That had been a good fifteen hours ago.

"It was necessary," Vilkas said in his defense, "and Danica can vouch for that. Eorlund repaired your armor yesterday afternoon so no time lost there. It's in Kodlak's quarters. Do you feel better, at least?"

"Yes," she grumbled. She still felt exhausted in spirit, but no longer borderline crazy, and the stiff achiness was already fading. She rotated her neck and shoulders then did some slow stretches, and when she heard a sound of desire from Vilkas she realized what it must look like, and realized how long they had been apart. She stood straight, suddenly self-conscious in her nudity, and turned away to get clean clothes out of her pack, then realized in frustration that she had none and would have to go down the hall to the Harbinger's quarters.

Vilkas pleaded in anguish, "Please love, get back into bed—"

"I'm fertile." Making the anti-fertility potion hadn't even entered her mind lately, and she was halfway through her cycle. Prime time to make a child, something she couldn't allow. Something she probably could never allow.

"Fine, we won't make love, but just…don't leave already." She sighed heavily, staring at the dragon skull on the opposite wall, her expression bleak. She rubbed her eyes and her entire body nearly rippled, more lean and toned than he had ever seen it, still free of scars for the most part, her pale blond hair having gotten long enough to spill over her shoulders. She glanced at him as her hands fell and her chin tilted up, and at that moment she looked so regal, so beautiful and powerful, that it made his heart ache with longing. And he still felt so unworthy of that proud regard. _You're still wearing that wolf armor_, she had said, slightly wrinkling her nose. The dragon in a woman's form had found his clinging to it confusing and pitiful, surely. She sighed again and sat down on the edge of the bed, and as he hesitantly reached out to rub her back she leaned down to check her pack next to the bed. "I'm sure it's still there. No one has touched the pack, and I only did to set it on the floor, and the door is still locked."

"You never know," she murmured. "The Scrolls have a tendency to move themselves." He made a sound of fearful interest at that. She glanced inside and it was still there, wrapped heavily in leather.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes, very."

"I'll be right back."

Vilkas got up and went out into the hall in his nightclothes, and Bryn kept staring into the pack. The Amulet of Mara was right there. She was sure she hadn't left it lying on top like that, in fact she knew that she had kept this one stowed in the very bottom of the bag, her reward for helping Dinya Balu spread the gospel of Mara. Well, no time like the present. She already knew what his answer would be, though clearly Mara wasn't getting the message after all this time. She was heartily tired of the Divines messing in her affairs, especially two certain Divines. It was almost as if they were in a contest over her. She was quite sure after all the 'letters from a friend' she had received that Talos himself was the one sending them; they were all the same in wording, all sent from impossible locations, all by a middle-aged man who was either Nord or Imperial. Eeriest of all, the writing was _exactly_ the same on all of them; she had laid them side by side and every stroke of ink was exactly the same. She had read in Winterhold that Talos had appeared to the Nerevarine centuries ago in avatar form, so the letters were well within his capability. Bryn slipped the amulet over her head then slid into bed under the covers, feeling only slightly nervous, just wanting to get it over and done with so she could move on with what was left of her life. As Vilkas came back into the room with a plate and a mug Bryn felt a surge of anxiety, and when he sat down on the bed she clutched the covers to her chin.

"Here love, eat up," Vilkas urged, balancing the full plate of food on his knees while trying not to spill the water. Bryn sat up, the blankets still pulled up, and began to eat, looking almost ill, as if she were choking the food down. He quietly said to her, "I wish you'd had the chance to send a letter."

"I'm sorry if I worried everyone. It's…been interesting."

"I can only imagine."

"Have you ever heard of Blackreach?" Vilkas frowned and shook his head. "It's an unbelievably vast cavern system that connects at least three different Dwemer cities, between The Pale and Winterhold. Wonderfully beautiful, or it was for the first few days I was lost in it. Glowing mushrooms hundreds of feet high, swaying in the moist air. Glowing geode veins that I was able to mine for soul gems. Glowing water. Glowing red nirnroot. Glowing, glowing, everything glowed in the dark. Nothing could ever make me go back to that godforsaken place. It was impossible to find my bearings. I would go up a lift thinking I was going up into another city to search, only to come out into the cold wind of the surface, so I'd have to go back down again. Falmer everywhere. Centurions and Dwemer spheres. Even a dragon, who had been down there…who knows how long. I found one area where humans and orsimer were functioning as slaves to the Falmer. If there is a hell on Nirn, Blackreach is my hell." She wasn't even going to get into everything that had gone on with the Mage's College. It never ceased to amaze her how she got caught up in things like that. Well, everyone would hear about it before too much longer, and she had made some good friends there.

"Ah gods, love," Vilkas whispered. She chewed her food slowly, staring at nothing, but at least she seemed normal this morning.

"I gave Ulfric the dossier. It got to him. Let's hope in the way I wanted it to."

"What was he like? I've never seen him up close." Jergen, then Kodlak, had taken him and Farkas to Windhelm every year for the Feast of the Dead and the reading of the names of the Five Hundred Companions of Ysgramor, but the event had fallen by the wayside under Ulfric's rule.

Bryn shrugged one shoulder and picked a chunk off a sweetroll. "Honorable. Troubled, but not beyond hope. His city is a mess, but less of one than when I first got there. He's racist, but how much of that is really him and how much programmed into him by Elenwen's torture I can't say. Whatever she did to him, it was much more horrible than I can even begin to guess. The things he said, no details, but… well, it isn't my place to say. I wouldn't betray his trust any more than anyone else's." Reading the dossier, she had imagined physical and psychological torture, but his comment about hardly being able to be with a woman because of it…that had weighed heavily on her mind since the moment he had said it. Using sex to torture someone had never, ever entered her mind. She hadn't realized it was possible until then, and still didn't know how it could even be done. Vilkas could be aggressive in bed, even after losing the beastblood, but he had never hurt her, had never been cruel or domineering. Feeling a painful swell of love for him, Bryn lifted her eyes to him and found him watching her intently, his pale eyes studying her with a hint of worry. She smiled slightly and touched his cheek, and he relaxed and smiled brightly at her. "I love you," she murmured.

"Nowhere near as much as I love you," he replied, relieved. He kissed her tenderly, smelling clean soap and Bryn's own unique scent. He ran his fingers through her hair, watching it shimmer.

"I'm sorry Farkas had to help you wash me."

He laughed, "Well, I'm not so sure Farkas is sorry." She laughed at that, but it was a tired laugh. He put his hand to the back of her neck to kiss her again, and when he pulled away he kept his hand back there, feeling a braided leather cord. She hadn't been wearing a necklace when he left the room. He felt her tense as he pulled down the blanket that she had covering it, and when he saw what she was wearing he felt his heart start to pound in his chest loud enough that he could hear his pulse between his ears. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to say something, then realized he couldn't even think of what to say and snapped it shut again. He stared at the amulet, unable to tear his eyes away from it until Bryn put her hand on his cheek and turned his gaze up to her.

"Please marry me, beloved," she whispered, tears rising in her eyes. Vilkas bit his lip, not answering, then he shook his head. "Vilkas, please!" she begged. If he turned her down now, if he actually said no-

"No."

"But…but I faced Alduin and—"

"And it still isn't done. You…you're going to Sovngarde." Her expression fell as the tears slid onto her cheeks, and he looked away from the hurt and betrayal there to set down the plate and mug, feeling like a pig. When he turned back to her she was taking off the amulet in stiff movements, and he nearly stopped her, feeling a sudden deep dread, but it only lasted a second. She had known how he felt about all this. She knew and had pressed the matter anyway.

"Well, I had to try."

The emotionless sound to her voice made him sigh, "Come on now, you know I love you. I would die for you—"

"You would give your life _for_ me, but not _to_ me? Strange." He didn't answer. She stared at the amulet, feeling betrayed, hating Mara with a passion. All she had done for the goddess and she still couldn't have this one thing. It looked like Talos was the winner in the tug-of-war. "Well, all right then. Guess it's time to go."

As she threw the blankets back and got out of bed he asked with worry, "Where are you going?"

"High Hrothgar, you know that."

"Right now?"

"Yes. Every day Alduin spends eating souls makes him stronger, leaves more of our people with no hope of reaching Shor's Hall." She reached down and grabbed up the pack then strode out of the room, not bothering to put anything on and not really caring who saw. She heard Vilkas make a choking sound of shock then hurry after her. She went into the Harbingers quarters and dumped her pack out on the bed to sort it out then turned to the wardrobe to get clean clothing. She had plenty of things stored away in all her houses, so she wouldn't need to come back here. If she survived she could have Lydia come get the dragon bones and scales. As she got dressed she looked around the room and murmured, "I hope I see Kodlak there. Maybe I'll even see my mother." Vilkas said nothing but she sensed him in the doorway, hearing his breathing, uneven and stressed. "You do realize that you're going to have to be Harbinger. You practically are." He still said nothing. She shrugged and continued dressing, going silent herself. If she kept talking she'd end up making them part in anger, or she'd start bawling, and she didn't want either of those things. Vilkas probably didn't even realize that they were parting. Better that he didn't until she was gone.

Bryn restocked her pack with clean clothing, only taking a few potions for curing diseases and restoring magicka, her healing skill more than adequate to deal with any wound on herself or others. She still had dozens of filled soul gems to keep her sword and bow charged; she carried Azura's Star, but it only carried one soul at a time. She would buy trail rations from Carlotta on the way out. She moved the Elder Scroll over to the side and got everything neatly packed away, and still Vilkas said nothing. She wasn't sure what she expected him to say, but she had expected something. He always had something to say. As she checked the pocket with her journal she saw a folded up piece of paper, stained and worn, and nearly took it out and ripped it up. Her one and only love letter from Vilkas, read and re-read dozens of times, comforting her on the road, giving her hope. She decided to leave it there, shoving it inside the journal. She couldn't quite bring herself to get rid of it yet.

"I thought I told one of you to get me when she woke up!"

Vilkas tore his eyes away from watching Bryn to see Aela coming towards them, and he said in an uneven voice, "She just did." The way Bryn was going about packing, the way she kept looking around the room as if she wasn't ever coming in here again…it had him sick with nerves. It felt like she was leaving him. He couldn't bring himself to believe that she was. Surely she would tell him if she was. He refused to believe that she would just leave him guessing. She was better than that. She was just upset right now, that was all. Anyone would be. Maybe with some time on the road she would realize why the timing was bad. It wasn't as if he was completely against marrying her someday. Just not now. He couldn't understand why she had chosen now of all times to push the matter. At least she hadn't completely dissolved. That might have made him break. What they had was good enough, certainly more than he had ever wanted out of a relationship. He had never wanted one at all, but he enjoyed what they had, and it was enough. It should have been enough for her too.

Aela brushed past him and put her arm around Bryn's shoulders, and the girl gave her a brief smile, her eyes red. Then Aela's eyes saw the Amulet of Mara lying on the bed. She looked at Vilkas and demanded coldly, "Leave."

"No, I will not," he stated.

Bryn stated, "I'll meet you upstairs, dearest."

"Are you sure?" She was still calling him dearest. She wouldn't do that if she was leaving him. Well, she wasn't. She had promised she never would.

"Yes. I'll be up in a few minutes."

Aela stared at Vilkas, and he glared at her then turned and left. Aela slammed the door shut after him and locked it. She said in a low, disbelieving voice, "You asked him to marry you and he said no."

"Yes," Bryn whispered.

Aela growled furiously. "That…that _bastard_…"

"Well, I'm making him Harbinger before I leave today, so don't get too mad at him."

"He doesn't deserve the honor, and you'd only be saying that if you were leaving, for good."

"That I am." Aela made a sound of hurt, and Bryn sighed, "I don't want to, but I have to. I'm leaving _him_. He just doesn't know it yet."

"If you told him so he might change his mind."

"That's why I'm not telling him. I don't want a man agreeing to marry me under duress. I would always have that in the back of my mind, that he had to be threatened into marrying me. I deserve better than that. Don't I?"

"Yes, of course you do." The sad answer made Bryn turn around and look at Aela. The Huntress said, "I would marry you."

"I know, and I appreciate that. I wish I could. I'll never have children of my own, but I wanted to be around to help you with Skjorta and watch her grow up."

"You _can_ have children of your own. You're still young and there are men in every town who would marry you. Not just men either," Aela said, going to her and putting her hands on her shoulders. "Just put that amulet on and walk down any street and you'll see."

"I know, but I wanted this one." Aela sighed and nodded. Bryn knew she could marry and have children easily; the only reason men (and women) never approached her was because she was Dragonborn, because she intimidated them. Ulfric hadn't been intimidated though. She supposed only a strong man like that wouldn't be. A man who could also use the _thu'um._ A man who had nearly become a Greybeard, a man who fully understood what she was and didn't fear it. He had known she was considering killing him and hadn't flinched from it. And yet he was a damaged man who knew less about love than Vilkas did. He was much older than her too, and he wasn't particularly handsome either, though he was striking, and his voice was mesmerizing. No, she had to put all thought of marriage and family aside for now and focus on finishing her business with Alduin. She had to live through that first before she worried about marrying and having children. She lowered her eyes to Aela's belly, and the Huntress took her hands and placed them there.

"She's only been moving for a few weeks," Aela murmured. "There, did you feel that?" Bryn nodded, a look of pain crossing her face. She put her hands on Bryn's shoulders and said, "I'll miss you, Sister."

"And I you," she replied quietly. She felt a tiny bump under her hands as the baby moved. She couldn't imagine what it must feel like to Aela, having a tiny living being inside her. Envious, she took her hands away and put them on her friend's shoulders, saying, "Maybe someday Mjoll could come here."

"That would be nice, but she doesn't feel she can leave Riften. Not as long as the Thieves Guild is operating and Maven is running the show."

"Well then, if I live I just may need to go do something about that like I did the Dark Brotherhood."

"Better if I don't know."

"All right. So what is the deal with Aerin? Honestly, I thought they were a couple, the way he follows her around."

"No, they aren't. He idolizes her, but she views him as a little brother. I do like her though. We'll see how it works out. We could certainly use more numbers here. That Erik lad seems promising. He's got fire the others lack."

Bryn sighed, "I hope so. I know I'm leaving us short, when we already were…"

"You do what you have to," Aela said firmly. "You can't come back from saving the world to have Vilkas string you along forever. I think he still doesn't quite grasp what you are. Neither can I, really, but I respect it anyway. Not that he disrespects, but…" She shook her head. "Something just isn't connecting for him. Something holds him back and always has. Kodlak would have been able to see to the heart of it." Kodlak had never had any real relationships with women, most of the Circle wary of such attachments for obvious reasons, but he knew people. Vilkas seemed to truly love Bryn, seemed attached to her well enough, and yet not as much as he should have been. Maybe the bond simply hadn't formed for him, the way it had for her and Skjor. Ah, how she wished she had told him that it had before it was too late! Well, now it was too late for Vilkas too, but at least he was alive.

"Maybe I can ask him when I see him in Sovngarde." Aela nodded, looking sad. Bryn kissed her forehead then stroked her cheek. "If I live, you can be sure to find me or leave me a message in Riften. I don't think I'll be able to come back here, at least not for a long time."

"I understand." She threw her arms around Bryn and the two women held each other, and after a minute Aela took a deep breath and let go, standing up straight. "You've made the Companions proud, Shield-Sister. You've made me proud."

"I've done my best."

"More than enough. If, after…if you find any promising young women and men, send them our way, would you? Erik was a good start."

"Of course." She turned away to start putting on her armor. "I'll come back to Whiterun, when it's time to catch the dragon, so maybe I'll see you then, but it will be a long time before I set foot in Jorrvaskr again."

"All right. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Sister."

Aela left, leaving the door open, and Bryn finished gearing up in silence, feeling calm descend over her. She could do this. She was glad that she had been unable to make love with Vilkas this morning or it would have been hard if not impossible. She still loved him, desperately, but she knew if she didn't make a break now that she would end up deeply resenting him one day, especially when she hit her mid-thirties and her fertility started its inevitable decline. She couldn't stand the thought of resenting him like that, or the thought of him resenting her one day if he felt forced to marry her, so better to end it. Maybe with time and space between them she could come back here someday to visit the ones she loved, but she didn't think she would ever be able to look at Vilkas without hurting.

When she was ready to leave, she left the Amulet of Mara where she had thrown it on Kodlak's bed, and didn't look back. Vilkas waited for her at the end of the hall, looking anxious, and she gave him a brief smile. She turned and looked down the hall, taking it in one last time, then she took a deep breath and went up the stairs.

Vilkas followed, feeling sick with nerves. He hadn't missed the look. She was looking at everything as if it were the last time. He said to her, "I should warn you, Lydia is waiting by the Gildergreen."

"That's all right," she said calmly. "I'm just going to be doing a lot of running around, nothing dangerous."

"She wouldn't care if it was."

"I would. I won't risk Farkas' wife. I won't risk their future." _Even if I don't have one,_ she nearly added, but she didn't want to prompt any more awkward discussions. The hall was empty, which was a relief. No long, sad goodbyes.

As they went out the front doors she said, "It's all right, Vilkas. No need to walk me out. You aren't dressed for it." He was still in his nightclothes, shoeless. He made a sound of exasperation and she paused outside the doors to look at him. His dark hair was still mussed, the dark shadow of beard on his face. Vilkas hesitated then leaned close to kiss her, and she responded as best she could, feeling her resolve waver. _Mara grant me peace,_ she begged silently. _You owe me that much! _She pulled away and patted his cheek. "Take care, Vilkas."

He frowned, not liking how she kept saying his name, in that detached tone of voice. "I'll see you soon, love."

"Will you? Next time I come to Whiterun it will be to catch a dragon, not sit around and visit." She turned away from his hurt expression and saw Lydia below, watching. "You're Harbinger now, Vilkas. You've earned it."

"No I am not," he protested, feeling sudden panic rush through him.

"Yes, you are. I already told Aela. I don't have time for anything more formal."

"I don't want anything formal! I don't want it at all!"

"All right, then you work out amongst yourselves who's going to do it, because I can't. I'm never here. I got the Companions straightened out and did my part, and I'm done. I probably won't live past defeating Alduin. How can I go to Sovngarde and come back? It just doesn't happen." She saw Lydia watching them from the Gildergreen, ready for the road, wearing the enchanted steel plate armor she had on so many of their adventures. Bryn smiled at her and gave her a little wave, and her friend relaxed and smiled back. "It'll be good to have Lydia with me one last time," she murmured.

"You're coming back."

"For the dragon, yes."

"No, after that. After Alduin." Bryn didn't answer, and Vilkas grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around, giving her a shake, or he tried to, her body like stone. "Please love, come back to me. I'm begging you."

"It isn't as if I want to die. I guess we'll see what happens." She gave him a brief, cool smile then stepped away from him. "Goodbye, Vilkas."

"No, this isn't goodbye."

"Call it whatever you want, Harbinger." He made a sound of anguish as tears rose in his eyes, a horrified expression on his face. So he was finally getting it. This really wasn't where or when she had wanted that to happen. Bryn quietly said, "I tried, Vilkas. I didn't want to go without at least trying."

"I'll marry you," he said in a choked rush. "I'll do anything you want."

"It's too late, I'm sorry."

"You can't leave me!" Vilkas cried. "How the hell can you leave me like this!"

"I don't know any other way to do it. I was hoping to go without-"

"What, you were going to just _leave!?"_ he shouted. "Just walk away without even telling me it was over?"

"Yes."

"But I said I would marry you!"

"Under duress. Is that what I'm worth, having to threaten a man into marrying me? That would always be between us, that I had to bully you to get you to marry me. You told me straight out in Riften that you just don't want to get married and that was all there was to it, but I wanted to at least give you the chance to change your mind."

"But I am changing my mind," he said, his voice breaking as a tear slid down his cheek. "Please, don't leave me. I love you."

"I love you too, but I can't keep going like this, and I don't want to get married if you're doing it under coercion. I don't want you resenting me someday for forcing you into it, or resenting whatever children came of it." He choked and rubbed his eyes, and she was grateful for the numbness that was keeping her heart from breaking. This wasn't at all what she wanted, to wound him like this so terribly, in a not very private setting. She murmured, "Well, all right then." He said nothing, turning away from her with a strangled growl and throwing the door to Jorrvaskr open and going inside. She sighed and started down the stairs, seeing Lydia motioning to someone above her. She didn't need to look to know it was Farkas. She felt strong hands on her shoulders, stopping her.

"Come on, little bird," Farkas pleaded. "Not like this." It had been awful to see his brother in tears, what was going on obvious. She wasn't just leaving, or Vilkas wouldn't have been shouting.

"I asked him to marry me, big bear," she said quietly. "He said no."

"What?" he whispered in shock.

"I asked him to marry me this morning, not even an hour ago, and he wouldn't do it. I asked twice and he said no. I gave him a chance, Farkas. I didn't want to go without giving him the chance to make things right. He didn't, so it's over. I didn't want it to be like this, I really didn't." He didn't protest any further, a look of deep sorrow on his handsome face. She stroked his cheek and said, "I'll be back, to catch the dragon, but I won't be coming back to Jorrvaskr. Not for a very long time. Maybe never."

"I understand," he said sadly. He was furious with his twin for this; he had hoped that Vilkas would come to his senses with the threat of Bryn possibly dying, but that he had not only not asked Bryn to marry him but had refused when she asked was beyond what Farkas could accept. He'd wait though to start tearing into his brother, who needed his comfort and understanding more than a swift kick in the ass right now. "I…well, I guess I should go see him. Make sure he doesn't do anything dumb."

"Yes, I think so. I told him and Aela that he's Harbinger now. If he won't do it, I'm not sure who will. Vignar maybe, but it should be Vilkas."

"He'll do it or I'll punch him."

"Good." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you when it's time to catch the dragon, big brother."

"You'd better. Take care of my wife for me."

"Very good care." Farkas nodded, then he blew a kiss to Lydia and went inside the mead hall after his brother. Bryn sighed and went down the steps, sad but still numb, glad for it. Mara had better do right by her and keep it this way or she was going to Riften and burning her temple down. She might even go all the way to Bravil and tear that chapel down too.

When Bryn reached the Gildergreen Lydia said sadly, "So, you really did it. You left him." It had been terrible watching it happen, but Lydia hadn't been able to look away. Watching someone being devastated was never easy, but Bryn had to have a good reason for it.

"Yes." As they fell into step with each other she stated, "I asked him to marry me this morning. He didn't accept. In fact he flat out said no."

"Ah gods, Bryn. I'm so sorry." She and Farkas both had believed that Vilkas was just being a coward and couldn't bring himself to ask, but would say yes if Bryn did. She couldn't imagine the feeling of betrayal Bryn was feeling right now. Still, if Bryn lived past Sovngarde, which Lydia fully believed she would, they could find some way to work things out. Lydia firmly believed that.

"So am I. He tried to make it up at the last second. As if I'm going to marry someone who felt forced into it. No thank you."

"I understand."

"Everyone has so far. I'm not sure he ever will." She put her arm around Lydia's shoulders and hugged her to her. "Thank you for coming with me. You always did know what's best for me."

"You're my thane and always will be. I am your sword and your shield, always."

"I'll always be glad of that, as long as I live." However long that was.


	28. Chapter 28

Tullius glanced up from the map as someone entered the war room, and when he saw two young Nord women standing there he said dryly, "Are my men now giving free reign to anyone who wanders into the castle? You had better have a good reason for being here, citizens."

"I believe we've already met," Bryn quietly stated. "A little over a year ago." She was surprised by how small the man was. All men but Nords were shorter than her, but it was still surprising.

"Have we? Oh. Of course, you were at Helgen. One of the prisoners, if I recall correctly. Brynhilde, is it? The one who helped Legionnaire Hadvar escape."

"Yes," Bryn said slowly. She glanced at Lydia, who was frowning at the older man, a look of offense on her face. It didn't seem possible that he didn't know who she really was.

"Well, he said he would vouch for you if you ever came in. I'm sure your being imprisoned was all a terrible misunderstanding." He waved her off and bent back down to the table. "Speak with Legate Rikke. She will determine if you're Legion material." Bryn laughed, and the General looked sideways at her and said, "Is there something you find amusing in all this, young lady?"

Rikke quietly said, "Ah, General Tullius sir—"

"I'm not here to join the Legion," Bryn stated. "I would never join the Legion."

"Then quit wasting my time," Tullius said in clipped tones.

"Sir!" Rikke said insistently, and he stood up again, staring at her, waiting. "Sir, I believe this is the Dragonborn."

"Not with that nonsense again!"

"Nonsense!" Lydia barked. "Don't get out much, do you!"

"Maybe you should wait outside," Bryn told her. Lydia turned on her heel and stalked out of the castle. Bryn folded her arms and said to the General, "I'm not really used to being dismissed as nonsense, General. I killed a dragon outside the city gates about six months ago. I assume you didn't hear about that, then. Or the fifty-odd other dragons that I've killed, whose souls I've taken."

"I pay little attention to Nord superstitions," he said irritably. "I don't have the time or the patience for it."

"Why on Nirn would you accept a commission to a land whose legends and customs you have a seemingly willful disregard for? I assure you, I am very real."

"I see you standing in front of me, yes. Last time I saw you, you had your head on the chopping block."

"Only because of that Redguard Captain of yours. Is that the Empire I was raised in, sending people to their death for no reason at all?"

"You were captured trying to join the Stormcloaks," he retorted. "A Thalmor agent near the gate said you attacked him in the Pale Pass and he turned you in to us, right after we caught up to Ulfric and his men."

"Ah, so that's how it was," she said with interest, trying to contain her temper. "This Thalmor agent, did he give his name as Yancarro? Was he wearing the proper clothing? Have you seen or heard from him since?"

"Yes, that was his name, and no, actually, he didn't seem legitimate, and we did look into it. Seems he was a complete fraud and the Thalmor have no record of him among their ranks, which is the only reason you aren't under arrest right now."

"The _only_ reason!" She couldn't help bursting into laughter at that and looked at Rikke, who was pale under her helmet, her eyes wide.

"Sir, please," Rikke said with worry. "I've been trying to explain this to you for the last year. This is deadly serious."

"Yes, I'm well aware," he said in aggravation. "I'm the one who had to run interference when Elenwen came here yowling for this woman's blood. This 'Dragonborn' has caused me a world of trouble, and I haven't put out a warrant for her because I know it would offend Nord sensibilities and inflame an already volatile situation."

"Is that really why, General?" Bryn countered. "Or did some part of you giggle a little bit at the thought of Thalmor being slaughtered?" To his credit he didn't react all that much to the suggestion. "I would hope that Elenwen realizes that if the Thalmor can't get rid of me that there isn't a large enough regiment of Imperial soldiers left in Skyrim that could do the job."

"Yes, she does, and that's what I told her to get her to back off."

"Still, it's surprising that she did. One would think she would be thrilled to see an already volatile situation inflamed. Or maybe it's only that she didn't want to lose face." Tullius didn't answer, staring at her with a calm she found enviable. Not much at all would rattle this man. Nerves of steel. "Tell me General, just how many Thalmor are left here in Skyrim? Have they sent replacements for the, oh, near thirty I've disposed of? Elves certainly don't replace themselves quickly, do they?"

"What are you here for, Dragonborn?" Tullius asked. "I'm a busy man and don't have time to play games."

"I have a message from the Greybeards." He finally looked a bit surprised. Well, at least he was acknowledging what she was now.

"The Greybeards? What do those old hermits want with me?"

"They're convening a peace council at High Hrothgar."

"Why? There's nothing to discuss as long as that traitor Ulfric is in arms against his rightful Emperor and still wearing his head."

"That is debatable, however we need a truce until the dragons are dealt with."

"They are getting to be a problem," he admitted. "But I wasn't sent to Skyrim to fight dragons. My job is to quell this rebellion, and I intend to do just that, dragons or no dragons."

"Don't you think the dragons are a bigger problem than the Stormcloaks right now?" she countered. "Do you think the beasts will be content to stay here in Skyrim? They can fly, you know."

The General grunted and rubbed his chin. "You may have a point. And it's getting difficult to move troops around without attracting a dragon attack. By all accounts, the Stormcloaks are suffering just as badly. Even Ulfric might see the sense of a truce under these conditions."

"I believe he will." She kept her reasons for that to herself. Ulfric she could speak to freely, for the most part, could appeal to his emotions. She had to wonder if this man had any other than a sense of duty. "Will you come to the peace council, then? One week from today?"

"Yes, yes, fine," he sighed, "I'll come to this Greybeard council, for all the good it will do." He went back to the map. "You may go."

Bryn's nostrils flared at the dismissal, and Rikke said to Tullius, "Sir, if I may step away for a few minutes…" He nodded and waved her off. She hurried to the Dragonborn, who was watching the General with intent eyes, as if she were moments away from Shouting him into the wall. She quietly said, "Please, Dragonborn. I would like a few words with you, if I may have the honor."

"Of course," she murmured, recognizing conciliation when she saw it. Rikke was a Nord, and maybe she had some influence with her superior. She was simply amazed at the man's lack of understanding of his situation, and his seeming refusal to understand it. Or understand what she was. She hadn't once since it became known she was Dragonborn been simply…dismissed. Treated with such a blatant lack of respect. Even the non-Nords in Skyrim treated her with respect.

Rikke led her into the outer room then up some stairs to a private room, silent the entire way, and once she closed the door she said, "You'll have to excuse General Tullius—"

"No, I don't have to, actually. But I'm listening. Please do me the courtesy of being frank."

"Well, yes," she stammered. She cleared her throat and said, "Tullius is a good man. He wants what's best for Skyrim."

"No, he wants what's best for the Empire. However letting the Thalmor drag innocent folk away to be tortured isn't in anyone's best interest, Legate."

"Yes, we all know that, and no one is happy about it, least of all General Tullius. Nords aren't the only folk who worshiped Talos, Dragonborn. Talos was the Legionnaire's God. We all prayed to him before battle. We still do, most of us. But for now there's nothing we can do."

"There's something _I_ can do, and I'm doing it, every chance I get."

"Yes, and the Thalmor keep implying to Tullius that you're doing it at Ulfric's behest."

"Interesting, since I spoke to him for the first time only about a month ago."

"Tullius doesn't believe it, I assure you. Neither does Elenwen."

"I do very little at the behest of others. I do what I feel is necessary and right, as my conscience guides me. Regardless of the piss poor way he's gone about things, so does Ulfric."

Rikke's expression hardened as she said, "He's a traitor, Dragonborn. I don't know what he told you, but he's a murderer." It wasn't as if she didn't sympathize with Ulfric's cause, or feel his frustration, but he had gone about everything in just about the most wrong way possible.

"He told me he challenged Torygg to a duel, Torygg accepted, and he knocked Torygg down with the _thu'um_."

"He Shouted him apart!"

Bryn gazed at her for a long moment, and when the older woman fidgeted she said, "Being somewhat of an expert on the _thu'um_, I can assure you that no Shout exists that can tear a person apart." Rikke blinked, taken aback by that. "Of course, that won't matter to Tullius. Neither will my assurances that Ulfric isn't in this for the power. At this point I don't care. I just want the fighting to stop, long enough for tempers to cool, long enough for me to get my job done." Long enough for people to experience peace and get used to how it felt again.

"And just how will you manage that?"

"I'm going to Sovngarde to fight Alduin." Rikke gasped, nearly taking a step backwards in sheer horror. Bryn shrugged. "I already faced him once, at the top of the Throat of the World, and I'm still here to talk about it. Have anyone you want me to pass a message along to?"

"How…how can you be so flippant about it!" the older woman said through gritted teeth. "Shor's bones, girl!"

"Because I think I'm probably going to die. Isn't that how Nords are supposed to face death? With a song on their lips?" Rikke stared at her. "No? Well, I'm still working on the whole Nord thing. Anyway, I would like to face the afterlife with some certainty that Skyrim won't fall apart while I'm gone. I want to trust that Tullius won't rally the troops the moment Alduin is destroyed. I want the truce to hold."

"Tullius will hold if Ulfric does."

"Well then, I had better make sure Ulfric does."

"How will you do that?"

Rikke's tone made Bryn tilt her head and eye her narrowly. "And just what are you implying, Legate?"

"Ulfric is a very charismatic man."

"Ah yes, and I'm a young, innocent little snowberry who is so very easily swayed by powerful men and their charms, is that it?"

Alarmed by the sudden edge to the girl's voice, Rikke said, "No, not at all. I apologize if it came across that way. That isn't what I meant."

"You're a poor liar. I'm very good at detecting lies, you know. I heard none from Ulfric. He was nothing but straight with me. I went to Windhelm expecting to detest him, while pitying him—"

"Pitying him! Why on Nirn would you pity that beast!"

"Because he is what the Thalmor made him. Don't disparage the other puppets when your own strings are there for all to see."

"Yes, but we know the strings are there and are simply waiting for the right time to cut them."

"Well, he knows they're there now too. When I was sacking the Thalmor Embassy I found a dossier they created on him, written in Altmeris, about how he was tortured and then allowed to escape with the express purpose of eventually destabilizing Skyrim." The older woman took a shaky breath, looking horrified, then she rubbed her eyes. "I gave it to Ulfric and he read it in front of me. What do you think that does to a person, to a very young man, spending a year of his life being tortured, in ways that I think even you might have trouble grasping? What do you think they had to do to him to finally break him, to make him say anything to make it stop? And then to spend the next nearly thirty years with that pain festering inside him, seeing the Empire he suffered for betray his people at every turn? And then, _then_, to find out that so many of the things he has done over those decades turn out to be something that was programmed into him, something that was subtly manipulated by the very people who tortured him? Can you imagine all that, Legate Rikke? How would you function with that kind of poison burning inside you?"

Feeling ill and near tears, something she was very much not used to, Rikke whispered, "Honestly, I can't imagine. We didn't know. He was a prisoner of war, and yes we thought they probably used some…some interrogation techniques on him—" Bryn made a scoffing sound. "I know, it's a euphemism, I'm sorry. I was friends with Ulfric once, good friends. With Galmar too. I don't like seeing what he's become. He was always a serious lad, back when we were young. Maybe it was the Greybeard training, spending most of his teens with hermits instead of friends his age. His father, Fjonnar...he was a lively man, a well-loved man, who dominated any room he was in. Larger than life, I suppose. Ulfric is too, but…gods, I wish you hadn't told me all this." It was painful to hear, to remember the young man Ulfric once was, the sturdy, loyal friend he had once been, always slow to laugh but always quick to lend an ear or a shoulder. And Galmar…ah, those had been good days, early on. She had spent the last year dreading the day she faced them on the battlefield. After speaking with the Dragonborn, she finally felt the faintest spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, she might not have to.

"You at least will listen. I have the feeling anything I say to Tullius will be a waste of my time and breath. Maybe you have the patience and influence to get through to him. I don't. It's not every day that I have my very existence brushed off. It offends."

"Yes Dragonborn," she said hastily. "I'll try, when the time is right, but you have to understand that General Tullius is an Imperial, a Colovian, through and through. There's no…no passion in the man. He sees his duty and he does it. It won't matter to him what was done to Ulfric. He doesn't, he can't, empathize the way you want him to."

"He doesn't have to. He just needs to keep his eye on the prize and realize his objective in whatever way it comes about. He's here to quell the uprising. What does he think will happen if he makes a martyr out of Ulfric?"

"He's considered that and is willing to take the risk."

"Thereby weakening Skyrim and the Empire further? Foolish, when I can provide a different option."

"As long as it doesn't entail putting Ulfric on the throne he will listen, I promise you."

"Ulfric will never set foot anywhere near the High Kingship. I've already told him that. I don't think he particularly wants it, but he wants the Thalmor out of Skyrim."

"That might never happen." Rikke felt a thrill of mixed fear and wonder as a slow smile spread over the young woman's pretty face, her golden eyes glistening.

"Ah Rikke, that _will_ happen, if I survive Sovngarde. The Thalmor had better hope I don't. Do you know how I can get an audience with the Emperor?"

"What?" Rikke squawked. The abrupt change in subject had her completely disoriented.

Bryn waved her off and shook her head as she went towards the door. "Never mind. Maybe I'll ask Vittoria Vici. She's his cousin, correct?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Goodbye."

"Dragonborn!" Rikke protested, but the door closed in her face. She yanked it back open and hurried after the young woman. "Dragonborn, please, wait!" The girl stopped abruptly and turned to look at her, her eyes nearly glowing in the darker hallway. She quietly said, "Dragonborn, I beg of you, don't make a terrible situation worse."

"I don't plan to. That's why Elenwen still has her head, for now." The older woman made a sound of worry, and Bryn moved close to her, putting her hands on her shoulders, the steel armor cold under her hands. "Rikke."

"Yes?" she whispered, bewildered by the familiarity. Rikke herself was tall, but Bryn was even taller, as tall as an Altmer woman and many Nord men. Rikke knew why, having done the research that Tullius didn't have the time or interest for. Rikke was afraid however that Elenwen had also done that research. Well, of course she had.

"Rikke, if I survive Sovngarde, which is not yet a sure thing…I want to see the Emperor."

"That is an extremely difficult thing to do."

"But not impossible. The commander of the Penitus Oculatus, Maro…"

"Yes, I know him."

"He said he would make sure that the Emperor heard of me and what I've done. I assumed he meant just the Dark Brotherhood. Do you know that they were thinking of assassinating poor Vittoria on her wedding day?"

"Good gods," Rikke whispered.

"Yes, I found the contract while I was cleaning out the Falkreath Sanctuary. It didn't say who the contract was from, but the only reason I can think of to kill the Emperor's cousin is to further destabilize Skyrim. Maybe try to make it look like the Stormcloaks were behind it, though anyone with brains would realize that isn't how they or Ulfric work. I gave Commander Maro the contract. He said he would pass it along to the Emperor personally, and I hope he did." She gave the older woman a gentle shake and softly said, "I like you, Rikke. I appreciate you coming after me. It's improved my opinion of the Legion. Not of Tullius, of course. He needs to understand that I'm not about to let him chop off Ulfric's head."

"I ah…think that's something he doesn't need to understand quite yet. It might be counterproductive." Bryn smiled brightly at her and Rikke couldn't help but respond, finding the girl's charisma impossible to resist. Then she smelled the gauntlets on either side of her face, the slightest hint of sulfur and a strange metallic tang she couldn't place. She blinked and whispered, "Mighty Akatosh, you're wearing armor made of dragon scales!" She was appalled that she hadn't noticed until just this moment.

"Fancy, isn't it." She had enough bones and scales saved up to make many, many more sets. Maybe even some weapons, an idea she had been bouncing around lately.

"Well, yes, very."

Bryn patted her on the shoulder then turned away. "See you at the peace council, Rikke."

"Yes, Dragonborn." She trailed after the other woman, watching her leave the castle to rejoin her companion, then she gathered herself and returned to Tullius. The other Legate was there, Adventus Caesennius, standing at rest against one wall.

"So?" Tullius asked casually. "How did it go?"

"It's a Nord thing, sir. I doubt you would understand." Rikke was going to think about it for days though. To have actually met the Dragonborn! To have that terrible, beautiful regard turned on her, with that intent focus she had heard so much about…

"Try me. And this time I will make sure I listen."

Rikke let out a sigh of relief. "Yes sir. Thank you."

"I just need to know one thing: is she a Stormcloak sympathizer?"

"No sir. She told me flat out that Ulfric will never become High King and that she told him so." Tullius nodded slowly. "She does sympathize with him, personally. She…well sir, this can't leave this room."

"Understood." Neither of them bothered glancing at Adventus; his loyalty and discretion were unquestionable.

"She found a Thalmor dossier on Ulfric. It implied…" She snorted a bitter laugh. "Well, it was more than implication, that the Elves tortured Ulfric while he was a POW, with the eventual goal of destabilizing Skyrim. That the actions he has taken against the Empire were due to their manipulations."

"Unfortunate, but that changes nothing."

"Yes sir." Well, she had expected as much. Tullius didn't care much for the why of things.

"I know you two were friends once."

"Yes sir. A long time ago." She paused then added, "She swears to me that Ulfric didn't use the Voice to kill Torygg. She says there is no Shout that can take a man apart."

"The whole 'shouted him apart' nonsense is irrelevant. Ulfric killed the High King."

"The Dragonborn says that Ulfric told her that he challenged Torygg to a duel, and Torygg accepted."

"I'm sure she believes that."

"Sir," she said in a tone of warning, "please don't see a young, pretty face and make the same mistake I did. She is extremely strong-willed and extremely dangerous. She wasn't lying when she said no Legion could take her down. You can't imagine what those with the dragon blood are capable of. Whether you think she was sent by the Divines or not, she can do everything you've heard she can do and more. The Thalmor are right to be afraid of her. She asked how to get an audience with the Emperor—"

"That will _never_ happen," Tullius said forcefully, finally showing real emotion.

"Sir, if we play our cards right…if we can get Skyrim put back together and the Dragonborn gets the dragon problem under control…she would be a very, very powerful ally. The Nords would rally around her. The Empire could rally around her."

"Yes, as a new Tiber Septim. I swore my loyalty to Titus Mede II. We both did, Legate."

Rikke gazed at him for a moment then quietly said, "I'm glad you finally understand the gravity of her position, sir." Those who were Dragonborn were made to rule. It was simply their nature to do so.

"That I do. I don't want her setting foot in Cyrodiil again. I don't want her anywhere near the Emperor."

"Commander Maro already told the Emperor about her, sir, I'm sure of it. When she destroyed the Dark Brotherhood, she found a contract on the Emperor's cousin Vittoria, and Maro said he would personally make sure that the Emperor heard about it, and her." Tullius rubbed his chin, frowning. Rikke quietly told him, "She would never assassinate the Emperor, sir. She strikes me as very ethical."

"If she was so ethical, she could have ended this war months ago by getting rid of Ulfric."

"She already had the dossier by then. She's had it for a year now. She hates the Thalmor with a passion, sir, the same passion we all have, no matter her upbringing."

"Yes, that. I'm afraid I didn't pay as much attention to that matter as I should have."

"She's half-Altmer, sir. She takes after her mother as all half-bloods do, and the folk consider her a Nord, but she was raised by Altmer. Her parents were Legionnaires. Her mother Heska was a Praefect under Legate Caelius. Her father Ennescar was a battlemage in the same unit, as her aunt Elluhrine was before she retired to care for Brynhilde. Elluhrine was not as gifted a mage or warrior as Ennescar and didn't want the girl's parents to give up their careers when the war was at such a critical point. Her parents were lost guarding the Emperor's retreat from the Imperial City. Her aunt was caring for her in Bruma at the time. She took her back to the Imperial City a couple years later when it was back under our control and she took a husband of her own. She raised Brynhilde as her own, alongside her son, Yancarro."

"The one who allegedly betrayed her."

"Yes sir. I haven't been able to track him down past when he turned her over to us. She had a serious head wound at the time. In the back of the head. Not where it would be if she were attacking someone."

"Agreed. Hadvar never believed she was in with that lot, and he has good instincts."

"Yes sir. Her aunt and uncle and paternal grandmother still live in the Imperial City, in the Elven Gardens district. My sources were unable to speak at any length with any of them. They seem rather afraid to admit any connection whatsoever with the Dragonborn and barely leave their houses."

"With good reason." He wouldn't like to see what the Thalmor would do with that sort of leverage, and they would not hesitate to use it. The family's location in the Imperial City might be the only thing keeping them alive at this point.

"Sources here in Skyrim say she originally intended to come here to find out more about her Nord heritage, to marry and have a family. Of course Helgen changed everything."

"It did for a lot of us."

* * *

Bryn left Lydia at Candlehearth Hall and headed to the Palace of Kings, feeling ridiculously nervous about seeing Ulfric again. She wanted to believe he would agree to a truce. She wanted to believe that he had thought hard about the dossier and their last encounter and would see reason. She wanted to believe his attraction to her hadn't been a fluke. If it hadn't been, if he really did want her… She shook her head, angry with herself. She had sworn to herself that she wouldn't get involved with any other men for a while. She shouldn't go turning her attention from one man straight to another. She didn't need that right now. She had more important things to worry about than man problems. And this man...well, he would be _nothing_ but problems.

"Hail, Dragonborn," one of the guards said. "Is it true that Vilkas of the Companions is now Harbinger?"

"As far as I know, yes." She swallowed down the pang of grief the sound of his name caused. So he had decided to take the job after all. "I didn't have time for it, and he earned it."

"Aye, a worthy warrior that one."

Bryn nodded and went inside the palace, seeing Ulfric sitting on his throne arguing with Galmar about a crypt called Korvanjund and a crown. Bryn crept along the side of the hall in the slight shadows, listening, unable to help finding it amusing to spy on Ulfric and how easy it was. It seemed Galmar thought the crown would further legitimize Ulfric's claim to the High Kingship and wanted to send some men after it, but the Imperials had gotten wind of it as well and might be mounting their own expedition for it, for Elisif. Ulfric didn't seem particularly interested in diverting the people necessary to secure it and Galmar let the matter drop and walked off grumbling. Bryn had never heard of the Jagged Crown, though she had received the last of her mysterious 'letters from a friend' about the location of a Word of Power in Korvanjund, but a rockfall blocked the way in and she hadn't been able to get past it. She probably could have Shouted the blockage out of the way, but at risk of bringing the whole place down on her head. Better to let some Imperial engineers have a crack at it first. If the crown was needed to make either Ulfric or Elisif's claim legitimate, something she found rather silly, then she might have to make sure that neither side got it, granted she survived Sovngarde.

When it seemed Ulfric had no other business, Bryn came up behind Jorleif and tapped him on the shoulder, making him cry out and jump. "Damn it, girl! What in Oblivion are you trying to do, kill me?" he exclaimed.

"No, that isn't how I usually go about killing people," she stated wryly.

"What the hell do you want, then? Sneaking around like a thief or an assassin in Ulfric's hall. You have some nerve!"

Bryn laughed gaily and glanced at Ulfric, who was watching the scene with his chin on his hand, one eyebrow lifted, his mouth quirked as if he was trying not to smile. She bowed slightly to him and he languidly waved her over. She patted Jorleif on the shoulder, making him sputter, and walked over to the Jarl. She bowed to him again and said in greeting, "I'm back, Jarl Ulfric."

"So it would seem, Dragonborn," he said in a tone of amusement. "Should we check your pockets for the good silverware?" She laughed again at that, another full-throated laugh that made her absolutely radiant. She was wearing armor and not the rich dress of the last time he had seen her, but she was no less beautiful. Ah, but it was good to see her again. It made some tension in him relax a little to see her here, alive and whole. "Did you find what you were looking for in Winterhold?"

"Yes I did." She had disposed of the Elder Scroll there just yesterday. The College librarian had been beyond eager to get his hands on it, and get it securely locked away as soon as possible. She had made a tidy sum of two thousand septims, not that she needed it. She had noticed when she was last here however that the roofs in the Gray Quarter needed major repairs; the amount she had just made should cover it and then some. She had left it with Brunwulf Free-Winter before coming here. Everything was nicely squared away. She had made sure before she left Winterhold to pass the title of Archmage to Tolfdir, which had seemed to relieve everyone. The mages had been willing to let her keep the title, but everyone had known it was ridiculous to ever give it to her in the first place. She was fairly certain that with some more practice and tutoring that she actually could learn magic fairly well, but at this point there really wasn't a reason to. She continued to hone her skills in the Restoration arts, but that was all she was interested in. Her _thu'um_ did everything else she needed.

"And was that you making all that noise at the Throat of the World that the folk of Ivarstead are still losing sleep over?" At that her cheerful expression faded, replaced by a troubled one. "People are saying you fought the World Eater there, Dragonborn. Is this true?" If so, it was astonishing. He hadn't quite been able to bring himself to believe it. Rumor had it that two dragons had been seen and heard roaring about the mountain that night; Paarthurnax must have assisted her in the fight. The next rumors had said that when she came down off the mountain she looked like she had been dragged down every one of the Seven Thousand Steps, her eyes unable to focus on anyone or anything, and everyone had given her a wide berth, terrified of her.

"That is so, yes."

Ulfric blew out a long breath, seeing the guards looking at each other and shaking their heads in amazement. "People also say that you are no longer Harbinger of the Companions."

"That is also true." She saw him gnaw at his bottom lip for a second, frowning, as if debating whether to ask her something else. Maybe even ask if it was true that she had split with the man who was now Harbinger. Well, he would have to ask her some other time; her private business didn't need to be aired here, and she had more important things to deal with right now.

"So what brings you to me?" he finally asked. The wary look in her eyes had made him think better of asking if it was also true that she was no longer with Vilkas. Folk in Whiterun had seen Bryn having a confrontation with him at the doors of Jorrvaskr, and it had been fairly obvious that the relationship was ending, and on Bryn's terms if she had been calm and Vilkas had stormed inside. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. It was unfortunate, but he couldn't help feeling the faintest spark of hope either. Their last meeting had weighed heavily on him for weeks, with the occasional dream about the scent of lavender and the feel of soft pink lips.

"Alduin got away. I took him to the ground and had him beaten, but he flew off. The Greybeards' leader says he flew to Sovngarde. So that is where I am going."

"You must be joking," Ulfric said gravely. She slowly shook her head. "How do you plan on doing that?"

"By trapping a dragon in Jarl Balgruuf's palace and making it tell me how to get there."

"By Akatosh," he breathed in disbelief. Of course that was what Dragonsreach had been designed for, but to actually do it! What was even more amazing was that the ever-cautious Balgruuf would agree to it. Ulfric couldn't help being envious of Balgruuf at that moment. What he wouldn't give to be present when it happened!

"But first, I have a message from the Greybeards. For you."

"It's about time they turned their gaze from the heavens, back to our bleeding homeland. What do they want?"

"To negotiate a truce at High Hrothgar between you and Tullius, until the dragon menace is dealt with. Jarl Balgruuf won't let me use his dragon trap until he has an assurance that his city won't be attacked while we're doing it."

Ulfric stared at her as he stroked his beard, and Bryn gazed back, unflinching. He finally said, "I have the greatest respect for the Greybeards, of course, for obvious reasons. And the dragon attacks have been a plague on both sides. However the political situation is still delicate. I don't have the support of all the Jarls and cannot afford to appear weak. I can't agree to this unless Tullius himself will be there."

"General Tullius has already agreed to attend. I made sure of that first, Jarl Ulfric."

"Ah, of course you did, Dragonborn," he said quietly. She glanced away, her cheeks turning slightly pink. It was charming, if disconcerting. He had to wonder why she had gone to Tullius first, when it seemed he would be the harder one to convince of the need for a truce. That was going to roll around in his mind for a while. "Well then, good. We still hold half of Skyrim despite everything the Empire could throw at us. I doubt the Empire has the stomach for much more bloodletting."

Bryn frowned and murmured, "I would hope neither side does. It isn't a healthy appetite to have." He grunted in a noncommittal fashion, his blue-green eyes showing only hints of the distress that she had seen last time they had talked. "Will you come to the peace council, Jarl Ulfric?"

"Yes. I'll give Tullius one more chance to quit Skyrim with his tail between his legs." Bryn looked at him with disapproval but he didn't rise to the bait. "When does this conference take place?"

"Four days, at three in the afternoon."

"Galmar and I will be there." When Bryn said nothing, staring flatly at him, he asked with a hint of irritation, "Is there a problem, Dragonborn?"

"Yes. I'm starting to wonder just what it is that I'm potentially killing myself for," she stated, then she bowed and strode out of the palace. She hoped he would call her back but he didn't, and she felt a surge of hopeless rage that made her want to scream. It seemed nothing had changed after all. She'd be damned if she let the man fluster her after this with that voice of his and those soulful eyes.

Instead of going back to Candlehearth Hall, Bryn turned down into the Gray Quarter, half hoping that Galmar's worthless brother Rolff would be there and give her an excuse to hurt someone, but all was quiet and to her surprise a Windhelm guard was passing through. Her anger drained out of her as she nodded to him and he murmured greetings to her. So, it seemed Ulfric had bent at least that much. She went into the New Gnisis Cornerclub, the heart of the Dunmer community, and the folk inside sent up a quiet hello. Bryn went to the bar and leaned on it, asking the barkeep, "How goes it, Ambarys?"

"Well, muthsera, thank you for asking," he answered.

"I saw a guard on patrol. Is that recent?"

"Started right after you last left. Seems someone finally got through to the Jarl." Bryn shrugged and looked innocent. "We all wanted to let you know that we appreciate what you've done for us. Things have been a bit more… comfortable lately."

"It was a wrong that needed to be made right. It still isn't right."

"True, but it's better." He reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of wine and a glass. "On the house, muthsera."

"Surilie Brothers!" she said in delight. "I haven't had this since leaving Cyrodiil!" He pushed the glass to her and she breathed in the aroma then took a sip. She wished she had the palate and education to fully appreciate wine, but it was good all the same. "This is wonderful, thank you sera."

"You're quite welcome. What are you back in town for?"

"Just dropping off a message for the Jarl, trying to see if I can get the fighting to stop for a little while and get both sides to talk."

"Well…huh. Good luck with that."

"Thanks," she said with a smile at his dry tone. She took another drink then motioned at the ceiling. "I left some coin with Brunwulf Free-Winter, to do something about the roofs down here—"

"Dragonborn," he chided quietly as the club went silent. "You've done more than enough."

"Think of it as an investment." She smiled slyly. "Think of it as a way to publicly shame Ulfric. How embarrassing that the Dragonborn must come here and fix his broken city." There were calls of _hear hear_ at that, and when Ambarys proposed a toast she lifted her glass to it. If Ulfric was going to keep talking tough and still act like it was just a matter of time before he became High King, then she was going to keep making him look bad, keep making it apparent to the population of Skyrim at large and the Jarls that putting him on the throne would be a very bad idea. There was no way she would allow it to happen regardless, but she would rather she wasn't forced to kill Ulfric to keep it from happening. She really, really hoped it never came to that.

* * *

Bryn pulled out clean socks from her pack and pulled them on, feeling tired and a tiny bit hung over, wishing she'd had the brains to not stay at the Cornerclub drinking with the Dunmer. Others had come to join in the impromptu gathering and before she knew it, it was midnight and she was dancing and laughing and the Elves had loosened up considerably, letting her see a side of them she never really had before. It had been flattering that they had allowed her to be a part of it, but she was paying the price now. She would have to stop by the White Phial and take something for this or it was going to be a somewhat unpleasant morning.

A knock sounded on the door and she sighed, "Come in." Lydia was going to give her hell for being so foolish, though it never hurt to foster good relations with people. As the door closed she bent over and pulled on the silk pants that went under her armor and said, "I'm sorry, I know, we're late. I just couldn't get away. The Dunmer were being so hospitable and Ambarys kept serving me that wonderful Surilie Brothers wine, and then the others heard about it and everyone who could fit in the Cornerclub was in there, and everyone was singing and dancing and…" She laughed and stretched her arms over her head, rotating her waist to get the kinks out. "Okay, well, I'm not sorry. It was fun and the Dunmer were too. I'm sorry I didn't come back and get you when I realized it was turning into a party, but I was already a bit drunk by then."

"It isn't my habit to go to Dunmer parties, Dragonborn, but the thought is considerate."

Bryn gasped at the deep voice, feeling her heart skip a beat. She clutched her hands to her chest, standing there in only pants and the bandeau that secured her breasts under her clothes, her hair a mess. She whispered, "I thought you were Lydia!"

"Obviously." Ulfric stared at the girl's back, watching the muscles play under her white skin, which was surprisingly marked with only a single puckered scar on her left shoulderblade and a few smaller ones here and there. The pants hung low on her hips, and his hands itched to grab onto those curves, to feel that pale skin under his hands, to wrap that glistening hair around his fingers. He had seen her in only her underclothes as he had come in, and the sight of long, leanly muscled legs and a tight, round backside bent over in front of him was burned into his brain. He couldn't turn away, couldn't look away, painfully hard. She pulled on a silk doublet in jerky movements, and he murmured, "I apologize, Brynhilde. I am…gods, you're beautiful!" Dibella help him, he'd had no idea she had a body like that, and he had to say it. She made a sound of embarrassment, not looking at him. More than slightly embarrassed himself, he said in a tone of amusement, "I would leave, but frankly I am a bit…indisposed. You did promise to help safeguard my dignity, did you not?"

"You're…you're despicable!"

Ulfric laughed and finally forced himself to turn away, sitting down in the single chair. He leaned his elbow on the small table and said, "Yes, and I'm usually not. I apologize. I should have said who I was, but frankly I didn't expect to see what I did, though I can't be sorry for it. I think your housecarl is rather angry with me for ordering her to wait downstairs, and this certainly won't help."

"Well I'm angry with you too."

"Ah, well having the Dragonborn angry at you is always something to be avoided, of course." Her doublet fastened up, Bryn finally turned to look at him, her cheeks adorably pink. She glared at him and he couldn't help laughing again, making her clench her fists furiously. Her eyes flicked to his lap then they widened at what they saw there and she quickly turned back around to pick up her armor, her hands shaking. He chose to find it flattering. Her girlish reactions only served to inflame him further. What he wouldn't give to push her into that bed! He said in a husky voice, "I still find it hard to believe that you have only ever been with that Companion."

"He was the only one who ever…" She trailed off, feeling a pang of grief. She didn't need the reminder. She did all right as long as nothing made her think about it. About him. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"

"My entourage is leaving for Ivarstead today. I thought it would be courteous to ask if you and your housecarl would travel with us."

"You know I can't do that."

"I know no such thing. If I did I wouldn't have asked."

"If I travel to High Hrothgar with you it will make it look as if I favor you."

"Don't you?" he asked suggestively, and when she turned to glare at him with her cuirass in her hands he smiled at her and said, "Thinking about throwing that at me?"

"I'm thinking about Shouting _IIZ SLEN NUS_ at you then leaving. You should be thawed out by time I reach Kynesgrove."

Ulfric laughed loudly at that, delighted by the threat and the hilarious mental image it created. By Talos, she was a fascinating woman! Beautiful and deadly and charming…the combination was enticing as hell, and the good view he had gotten of her today was going to haunt his every idle moment. "That would serve me right, wouldn't it?" She didn't answer, turning away to pull the armor over her head. He got up from the chair, his little problem resolving itself on its own, and she tensed as he neared her. He held the cuirass from behind for her so she could more easily tighten the straps, and after a brief hesitation she began to do so. He quietly said, "Rumor has it that you're no longer with Vilkas." Bryn shook her head. Her hair was caught under the armor and he gently pulled it out for her. He licked his lips at the sight of bare white neck, and he quickly let her hair fall and stepped back. If he didn't he was going to grab her, and she just might make good on her threat to freeze him solid.

"I asked him to marry me last week," she quietly stated. "He said no."

Stunned, Ulfric said, "You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Well…why? Surely…" He fell silent, feeling awkward, something he was very unused to. So that was the root of the problems between them that he had gotten a glimpse of: she wanted marriage and Vilkas didn't. It was mind boggling. Surely the Companion wasn't so enamored of his independence or his own reflection that he would refuse marriage to the Dragonborn. He had only seen the man and his twin from a distance, and he admitted with only a little envy that they were both incredibly handsome, both extremely accomplished warriors, an attractive catch for any woman, but this wasn't any woman.

"Because he thinks I'm going to die in Sovngarde."

"Would that not be an incentive to marry then?" he asked in confusion.

"That's what everyone says."

The forlorn whisper saddened him, and he said, "Then he is a fool. I'm truly sorry. Any man in Skyrim should count himself lucky to have your attentions and the chance at your hand in marriage." Her shoulders fell as she rubbed her eyes. Ulfric was at a loss as to what to do, instinct and his attraction telling him to comfort her, but common sense told him she might not appreciate the gesture. Offering comfort to women wasn't exactly something he was used to doing. How he wanted to comfort this one though!

"You would marry me then, if I asked?"

"Well…yes, of course," he stammered, bewildered by the question. "If you asked, if you wore the amulet. But we both know you would not. I'm not a young man, nor would marriage to me be all that enjoyable for you, I think. You deserve better than someone who will die well before you, and you shouldn't have to tolerate trying to heal the wounds of a damaged man. No, I am not meant for marriage, but if you ever asked I wouldn't be able to help saying yes." The thought of cursing any woman to being wed to him was impossible to bear. But the Dragonborn…maybe she was the only woman in all of Tamriel who was strong enough to…ah, it didn't bear thinking about.

Bryn whispered, "But you don't even know me!" And then there was the glaring fact that she was half-Altmer.

"You're Dragonborn and beautiful. What more would I need to know?" He snorted and shook his head, leaning against the nearest wall. "You still think like an Altmer. Life in Skyrim is hard, and often short. One must live while one can, and if you're looking for a spouse and a likely prospect is interested, then you do it. A person of my rank has to be more careful in making a match, but…you're Dragonborn, the only Dragonborn, the last Dragonborn. You could easily become High Queen…perhaps even Empress. What man in his right mind would turn that down?" He folded his arms, and when she sighed heavily and continued putting on her armor he went on, "It's offensive that the Companion refused you, and I can't fathom his reasons for it. It isn't that he's afraid you will die. That is nothing but an excuse. There is more there than that. If anything I would think he is afraid that he pales in comparison to you, that next to you he seems insignificant. He refuses to marry you because he then retains the upper hand. He doesn't risk that someday you will outgrow him and wonder what you were thinking to marry some mercenary."

She turned to look at him in surprise. "You really think so?"

Ulfric shrugged. "I don't know the man, but yes, that is what I think. I think he refuses to marry you because he refuses to truly understand what you are, because he is afraid to do so. I think he doesn't truly respect you either because of this, because he doesn't dare. For all my teasing and posturing, I do respect you. I understand perfectly what you are. I spent ten years of my life studying the Way of the Voice, the lore of the _Dovahkiin_, while I was with the Greybeards. Their teachings have never left me, regardless of how far I've strayed from the Way of the Voice." Bryn nodded slowly and sat down on the bed to pull on her boots. "Frankly, it probably would have been a good match. I don't see how he is unworthy of you. He follows an honorable path, and all respect the Companions. I don't doubt that he will make a fine Harbinger, eventually."

"I hope so." She had taken a risk naming him Harbinger, when Vignar would have made a better one, but the man was so old that it simply wouldn't work. Vilkas could grow into the position. He was one of the greatest warriors she had ever encountered, and he was fiercely intelligent, and Jorrvaskr was his entire life and had been since he was little more than a babe. He had the potential to be one of the truly great Harbingers, if he let himself.

"You never know, he may come to his senses someday. Perhaps when you return from Sovngarde he will change his tune."

"He already tried that. When he realized I was leaving him he scrambled to say yes. I told him it was too late. I have never felt that he was unworthy of me, ever, not once, but I deserve not to have a man marry me under pressure. If I wasn't good enough to marry before…" She shook her head vigorously. "Forget it. It's over. A year I waited. His twin brother is married to Lydia, did you know that?"

"I had heard."

She stood and began looking through her pack for her comb. "After I go to Sovngarde, if I make it back from there…I don't see myself going back to Whiterun again. Not openly. I want Lydia and Farkas to have a life together, without her feeling obligated to wait on me and follow me everywhere. I'll never have what I want, so I might as well make sure others get it. They deserve each other. They're like a brother and sister to me. They're what held me together in the early days. I think Lydia has all along."

"And what will hold you together now?"

"Duty. The same as you or Tullius, I suppose."

Ulfric said in derision, "Duty may be what guides Tullius, but love is what drives me. Love of my country, love of my god, love of my people."

As she began to comb out her hair she said, "Love, duty…what is duty but a kind of love? If I hadn't come to love Skyrim and her people, all of them, this would be a lot harder. I'm not afraid of dying in Sovngarde. In fact maybe it will be a bit of a relief if I do."

"Because you feel you have nothing to come back to?" he scoffed as he went to her. "Now you are just being morose. Here, give me that."

Bryn stood still in shock as Ulfric took the comb from her hand then began gently combing out her hair from behind. She stared at the wall and tried to relax, but it was impossible. This was just all too strange. After a few minutes he began braiding her hair back from her face, and she finally asked in a near whisper, "Why are you doing this? Why are you really here?"

"I'm not quite sure. On either count."

The troubled sound of his voice reassured her that this wasn't all a trick, a way to seduce her into joining Ulfric's cause, or barring that make Skyrim at large think that she sympathized with it. She refused to do the first, or let the second happen. "My aunt and grandmother both loved brushing and braiding and playing with my hair. I think that was the only thing of mine that they envied. Elves' hair rarely grows past their shoulders, but mine was down to my waist most of my life. When I was little they were always fussing with my hair and dressing me up, as if I were a doll." She let out a bitter laugh. "They were heartbroken when I hit puberty and started getting big boned. It was almost as if they really expected the Altmer blood to win out."

"Big boned," he said in derision. "That seems the sort of thing they would say. Now my mother, she was a big boned girl. You are not." Bryn was strong, but her body was lean and graceful. He would give almost anything to see it spread out before him, but that wasn't likely to ever happen, something that grieved him.

"I've never heard much about your mother. Everyone talks about your father Fjonnar, the Bear of Eastmarch, but never her."

"She died when I was very young. A boating accident, on the river here. Freida, her name was. She grew up in a fishing village in The Rift, so she loved to fish. Father found it a bit embarrassing I think, but he said the people found it charming. I don't remember much about her, but she was kind. Red-haired. Very soft, plump, perfect for cuddling a child. Father loved her so much he never remarried, though he had his women now and then. He found a good nanny for me, to provide mothering for me. It was a happy childhood, other than always missing Mother."

"Still, how sad. Vilkas and Farkas don't even know who their parents were. They were found in a necromancers' cave somewhere here in Eastmarch, on the border near the Velothi Mountains. One of the Companions found them on his way back from Morrowind, barely three years old and Farkas nearly dead. They had been terribly abused, it was… I probably shouldn't have said, it isn't my place to tell."

"No one will hear it from me." He put the final twist in her hair and held his hand out for a piece of leather to bind it, and as he tied it off he murmured, "All of us orphans, in a way, but such is often the way of the world." He hadn't known that about the twin Companions, only that they had been raised within the guild. It was terribly tragic. What had happened to Ulfric himself was beyond excusable, barbaric, but to inflict anything of the sort on a child was the greatest kind of evil.

"My childhood was good enough, other than dealing with my aunt's fussing, and my uncle's sneers and my cousin's rivalry. I wonder sometimes what it would have been like, being raised by my real parents. I wonder what it would have done to my father to watch us grow old. He was only in his fifties when I was born, still young for mer. My mother was younger than me when she died. Do you think I will see her in Sovngarde?"

"I see no reason you wouldn't." Done with her hair, he let his hands fall and said, "I envy you, in a way. To think you may end up seeing so many legends there…Jurgen Windcaller, Ysgramor, King Harald."

"I suppose we all end up meeting them eventually. Though maybe I'll get there and they'll kick me right out again for being a half-breed."

Ulfric frowned, and when Bryn bent down to get her pack in order he said, "The mother's blood always wins out. Always."

She straightened up and gazed directly at him, saying, "Look at me. Look at my eyes, my height, my hair that you so kindly fixed for me. All Elven."

"Yes, I realize that," he said uncomfortably. "However I look at you and see a Nord woman, a beautiful one. I can't help that."

"I'm flattered that you find me attractive. I find you attractive too, and I hadn't expected that. However I still do not approve of how you operate. I don't like having to make you look bad by having to help the Gray Quarter, no, the Snow Quarter, as much as I have. I refuse to keep calling it that."

"Yes, that was rather embarrassing to hear that you gave Brunwulf two thousand gold to make repairs. He made sure I got an earful about it this morning."

Bryn picked up her belt and put it on, saying, "I appreciate that the guards are patrolling there now. One step at a time, I suppose."

"He also told me you gave Torbjorn Shatter-Shield your own coin to make up the Argonian's wages, the last time you were here."

"Yes I did."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"They aren't our people."

"They're _people_," she stated. "They're citizens of your city, your hold, so I'm sorry but that does make them your people. If you'd rather they weren't, then throw them out. All of them. All the Argonian dock workers. All the Dunmer merchants and farmers. The Altmer merchant. The Altmer stable masters. I won't even get into all the other people of different races I've met in Eastmarch, all of them pulling their own weight even if they aren't wearing a Stormcloak uniform. You see how well your city and hold would run with only Nords here. How well Skyrim would run." Ulfric said nothing, frowning deeply as he stared at her. "Unless you realize that they do work, and you think they should only be kept around for what amounts to slave labor, because they're worth less than Nords, and in that case how does that make you any better than the Thalmor?"

Ulfric gazed at her, not answering, then she rolled her eyes and turned away to continue strapping on her weapons and gear. After a minute, when she glanced at him again, he quietly said, "Perhaps this is why I am here. Why I came today."

"To have me nag at you?" she said incredulously.

"To be fair, you only started doing so a moment ago." She laughed at that. "You speak to me as you would anyone. You treat everyone you talk to with equal respect, whether they are a Jarl or a beggar on the street, and it endears folk to you. I am afraid I don't have that in me."

"You don't have to. All you have to do is be fair."

"You really won't let me become High King, will you?" It was more a statement than a question. Of course she wouldn't allow it. Every time the thought came to him it sent a rush of frustrated offense through him, and then it was followed by guilty relief.

"No, I will not," she stated without malice. "But then I'll have to live past Sovngarde for that to matter." She hitched her pack onto her shoulder and said, "I told that first fellow I rescued from the Thalmor that you can either be High King or we can have peace in Skyrim. There is no way for both to happen. This war is weakening us. I wonder how many Stormcloak soldiers I'll see Alduin feasting on in Sovngarde? How many Nord Legionnaires? Fighting on opposite sides over an idea, and ending up just as dead in the same place, hoisting mugs together in Shor's Hall." Ulfric licked his lips and looked away. She paused then said, "I asked Legate Rikke how I could get an audience with the Emperor. I think I nearly gave her a heart attack. I _will_ get an audience with him eventually, if I live, and I'll see if he is worth my time and effort."

"Have I been?"

Bryn tilted her head and gazed at him thoughtfully, and she saw him bite back a smile at her inspection. There was a deep scar along his left cheek and jaw that she hadn't noticed before, lost in the lines of his face. No, he was not what she considered handsome, with that enormous nose of his, but his face had a great deal of character, and his eyes were sweet, a light blue-green, fringed with dark blond lashes. He was a good four inches shorter than Vilkas, who was very tall even for a Nord, but he was solidly built. She couldn't help wondering what it would be like to make love with someone her height.

She finally answered, "I'm still undecided."

He laughed at her answer and replied wryly, "Well then, you had better get back to me when you do." She nodded and headed for the door, and he gently took her arm and stopped her. He kept his hand there as he moved close to her, and that girlish shyness returned with flushed cheeks and eyes that avoided his. "You _will_ live," he stated. "I have no fears in that regard."

Bryn quietly said, "Of course I'll live. And then what?" She had never really thought she was doomed to die. Being doomed to live seemed so much worse. If she died it would be so simple. Her worries would end. She would no longer have the weight of the world on her shoulders. Defeating Alduin was only the start.

"And then you will continue fulfilling your destiny. And when it is time you'll find a man who will be strong enough to follow it with you."

"But I wanted that one," she said sadly. "It was all so perfect. We were so…" She fell silent, seeing Ulfric frown. She didn't dare think about Vilkas. She didn't dare have second thoughts. Thoughts that maybe she had acted too rashly, that maybe she should have given him more of a chance. If she started thinking about Vilkas, about never seeing him again, never sharing his bed again, she would start weeping and never stop.

"He may come to his senses someday," Ulfric stated, feeling a bit jealous, and feeling rather foolish for it. He wasn't even sure at first what he was feeling; he had never had a reason to be jealous of anyone or anything, not since he was a child. "Whether it be a month from now or a year from now. I know you refused him when he tried to make amends, but with time you both might find a way to work it out. If not, well, it is a wide world with a large number of men in it, and in the meantime…" He raised his other hand, hesitating before running his bent finger under her chin. She bit her lip as her eyes dilated slightly, invitingly. He murmured, "I would very much like to further our acquaintance, if you are willing."

Bryn whispered, "I don't know. I don't know if I can. I…I don't want it to happen again."

"I'm not the kind of man you would fall in love with," he said with faint regret. "I would ask no exclusivity from you, nor would I make any promises of my own. But you and I…I think we could be friends, if you continue to be honest with me, to be patient with me." The thought of going to his grave without feeling that body beneath him just once made him want to weep.

"I'm half-Elven, Ulfric," she reminded him. "Half Altmer."

"Yes, and maybe…maybe that is a good thing, and maybe that is part of the reason I want to try this," he said with some difficulty. "The things you've said to me, and my men, the dossier you gave me… It has all weighed rather heavily on my mind. You cannot imagine what I felt when I heard that the Dragonborn was a half-Elf, of Altmer stock at that. I felt the gods had betrayed us Nords. I was angry. Disgusted. The Divines were supposed to send us another Tiber Septim, another Talos, to deliver us from the Elves, and instead they sent us one who shared Elven blood. Then I heard about the Embassy. Then the Thalmor patrols you killed. Then Northwatch. I kept waiting for you to join the Legion, to approach Tullius, and it never happened until this peace conference. You ran here and there, all over Skyrim, helping her people with little thought for yourself, and then you showed up here, and I couldn't help but start to think, to hope, that maybe…maybe there is another way than mine."

Feeling a spark of hopefulness, Bryn grabbed his shoulder and said fervently, "There is, Ulfric, I swear it. Give this a chance. Me, the peace conference…give it a chance to work. Give me a chance to take the fight to the Thalmor. Like I told Tullius, we've had thirty years to build up our forces. Elves don't replace themselves quickly. I told him that. I also told Rikke that I had no intention of letting Tullius chop off your head. She took it rather well."

He snorted a sad laugh and let his hand fall. "Ah, Rikke. She was a good friend once. We served in the same unit, when we were young. With Galmar."

"She told me. I think I gave her every bit as much to ponder as I did you."

"That's good, however it isn't her you need to convince that I should live. She is not the one in charge."

"Tullius needs to decide if he wants peace in Skyrim, or you dead. It's one or the other."

Ulfric gazed into those intense golden eyes for a long moment, their faces barely a foot apart, and he finally said, "I will hold the peace as long as Tullius does. If he deals fairly, so will I." The sweet smile of approval that spread over her face nearly made him close the distance between them, but there was no time for that, and he wasn't about to tryst in an inn in his own city. Because if he touched her again it would happen.

"Good. I…I'll have to stay neutral, in any negotiations."

"I would expect no less." In fact he would lose a great deal of respect for her if she did let the attraction between them sway her in any way. He knew she wouldn't allow it. And the attraction between them was little more than that, nothing like the love she still obviously had for the Companion. Ulfric wasn't fooling himself that having an affair with the Dragonborn would amount to anything in the end other than satisfied mutual curiosity and hopefully a lasting friendship. He wasn't a selfish or devious man and wasn't in this to get her to join his rebellion. He simply wanted her, and he enjoyed her company, and knew she wanted nothing from him except for him to make peace. It wasn't as if he was never flirted with or approached by women, but they always had some ulterior motive. This one only wanted to save him, from himself and from Tullius, and he couldn't do any less than let her try.


	29. Chapter 29

Vilkas growled at Farkas, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" His brother was lugging two large and obviously extremely heavy sacks out of the Harbinger's quarters. He looked like a thief. A large, very noisy thief.

"Cleaning out your room, what's it look like?"

"It isn't my room, damn you! How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"You're the Harbinger. You've been the Harbinger for a week now. You're going to be Harbinger for the next twenty, forty, who knows how many years. Get used to it."

"I shouldn't have to!" Farkas set the sacks down with a clanking thump and glared at him, and he realized it was all Bryn's dragon bones and scales. His twin was taking all Bryn's things, probably to Breezehome to store for her. The look Farkas gave him made a twinge of nervousness go through him. His brother had been extremely patient with him, all the Companions had been, but he had the feeling that was coming to an end.

Farkas said, "All right, who's it going to be?" Vilkas didn't answer. "Yeah, I thought so. We all knew she wasn't going to keep the job forever. You have it, and everyone thinks you earned it. No one here wants you to step down, but we all want you to stop whining about it and just move into your quarters."

"They're Kodlak's."

"Yeah, and they were Askar's before that. Kodlak's been dead for months, Vilkas. How long are you going to hold out?" His brother didn't answer, his eyes drifting down to the sacks. Vilkas' expression hardened then he looked down the hall to the Harbinger's quarters.

"All right then," he said bitterly. "At least _she_ never slept in that bed." Every night he spent in his bed left him alternately furious and on the edge of bawling. He swore sometimes he could still smell lavender on his pillow. He couldn't go anywhere without thinking of her, or hearing about her. Heimskr the priest had mixed up his sermons lately, saying how the Dragonborn was going to save them all from Thalmor tyranny, in view of the flourishing young Gildergreen that he and Bryn had brought back to Whiterun together, after killing a dragon together, whose skull adorned his wall. He couldn't get away from the memory of her and it was driving him mad. It simply didn't seem possible that she was gone, for good. Some part of him kept thinking it was just some silly mistake and she would come walking through Jorrvaskr's doors any moment now.

Farkas sighed, "Come on. She didn't do anything wrong."

"Like hell she didn't!" he shouted. "She left me, damn it!"

"Why, she doesn't have the right? She asked you to marry her and you turned her down. How the hell do you think that feels?"

"I know exactly how it feels, you stupid bastard—" Farkas took a swing at him, and he danced back as he countered it with his hand and yelled, "She left me and you think I don't know how that feels? All I did was say no, I didn't leave her!"

"No, you just made her feel like shit," Farkas retorted furiously. "Everything she's been through, all the stuff she still has to go through, and she's still not good enough for you. The goddamn Dragonborn is worth about as much as a tavern whore to you!"

"Bullshit," Vilkas said in disbelief. "That is such _utter_ bullshit! I would have died for that woman—"

"That would be easier, huh? Then you wouldn't be stuck with her forever, because you'd be dead. Well good work, now she's going off to maybe die, and when she's dying she can think about how the man she loved rejected her."

"And she loved me _sooo_ much, didn't she? How the hell could she claim to love me so much then leave me? How can you ask someone to marry you, to spend the rest of their life with you, then leave when you don't get the answer you want? She wanted to be with me forever, and I said no, so now she doesn't have me at all? That makes no fucking sense!" Farkas stared at him, his tongue in his cheek, and he nearly barked at him to ask what his problem was, then he suddenly realized what he had said. _She wanted to be with me forever, and I said no_. It sent a chill through him along with intense loss. Of course that's what Bryn had inferred from his refusal. But it wasn't what he had meant at all!

"So you didn't want to be with her forever then. Okay. You know what, I'm glad she left you. She deserves better. I just hope she lives long enough to find it." Farkas hoisted the sacks and walked away. From the look on Vilkas' face he had realized what a stupid, and revealing, thing he had said. It made Farkas hurt for Bryn's sake, finding it impossible to really understand how much it must have wounded her to put her heart on the line and have it stepped on like that. It made him glad for Lydia and her calm, dependable love, and it made him miss her all over again. They at least had the comfort of knowing that no matter how often or how long they were apart, they would always be together again. Bryn had no comfort at all.

Vilkas huffed and walked the opposite direction to the Harbinger's quarters. "Fine, whatever," he whispered past the lump in his throat. He made a choking sound of grief at the sight of the Amulet of Mara on the bed, still where Bryn had tossed it after he had…rejected her. Implied to her that their relationship wasn't and would never be permanent. "Idiot," he mumbled, swallowing down the lump that was threatening to strangle him. He should have said yes right away. He should have seen the signs, seen that something was different when she came back from fighting Alduin on the mountain. She hadn't expected to face the World Eater then, but she had and lived, and so of course she had wanted to talk about marriage again, just as he had said they would, and he had said no. And if he had said no then, she had no reason to think he wouldn't say no forever.

He picked up the amulet as a pang of anguish stabbed through him. He had fucked up, just as he had always feared he would, and in the worst possible way. There was no way he could ever fix it, either. If he went after her now and begged her to marry him she would think he was still doing it under pressure. The thing was she would be right; he still didn't want to get married, but he couldn't stand living without Bryn, feeling like half of his soul was missing. And he still couldn't really explain why he didn't want to marry. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to figure it out. "Brains of Ysgramor, my ass," he muttered, borrowing Farkas' favorite insult. It was completely deserved.

He heard the shuffle of slippered feet on the stone floor behind him, and when he heard the familiar cluck of a tongue he quietly said, "Hello, Tilma."

"Hello dear," she said in her thin, reedy voice. "Finally going to take the plunge?" Vilkas dropped the amulet like it was on fire, and she chuckled. "Oh no dear, I meant the room."

"Yes, I… It seemed time." She joined him and he gently put his arm around her frail shoulders, as thin as bird bones.

"I'm so proud of you. Kodlak would be too. Both you boys. That girl got you both straightened out just as he hoped she would." Vilkas sighed heavily. She patted his hand, both of them gazing at the amulet. "Did you ever read his journal?"

"No, I never found the courage. Did you?"

"Oh no. I don't need to. I see everything, hear everything and know everything. You know that."

"Aye, and I would love to know how." Tilma always knew what was going on around and inside the walls of Jorrvaskr, sometimes things that she had absolutely no way of knowing. It was spooky, though they had all gotten used to it and didn't question it. They all assumed it was a sort of motherly intuition.

"Well, seeing as how you're Harbinger, I suppose it wouldn't hurt. I never got the chance to tell Brynhilde before she left. But you have to keep this to yourself, dear."

Vilkas blinked in shock. "You're joking. There actually is something?" He was completely floored, and when Tilma reached into her pocket and drew out a small pendant of carved crystal he couldn't believe his eyes. There really was a reason for Tilma's uncanny knowledge. She held it up so the light caught it but didn't offer it to him. The crystal seemed to be in two halves, more like a locket, bound closed with gold wire, and when he looked more closely at it he could see something small and dark inside.

"This is the Heart of Jeek of the River. Or what's left of it."

"No!" he whispered in awe. His hands itched to touch it but Tilma still didn't offer it to him. To think that it was a piece of an actual original Companion, the Captain of the ship Jorrvaskr, the founder of Whiterun! It was unbelievable, and yet at least it was an explanation.

"Oh yes. His body is buried under Jorrvaskr. He loved his ship so much his spirit stayed behind instead of going to Sovngarde, or at least that's what I was told when I took over from my grandmother. Now it's my turn to pass it on. I could never have children, you know, and I certainly had enough fun with the warriors here when I was young to know." Vilkas' eyes widened as his cheeks flushed, then he cleared his throat. "I like that young lady of Farkas'. She has a good head on her shoulders, and she's a warrior herself. I'm going to sit and have a chat with her when she gets back and tell her about the Heart. It will tell her everything she needs to know, when I pass, just as it has to me all these years."

Vilkas nodded and said in sad agreement, "She would be a good fit, but no one can take your place, Tilma." Lydia really had very little to do with her time when Bryn was gone, and since she had married Farkas she spent a great deal of time at Jorrvaskr. She mixed well with the rough and tumble warriors here, and they all had the highest respect for her as not only Farkas' wife but the Dragonborn's most trusted companion. She wouldn't fill quite the spot Tilma did, though perhaps they could get her some help. Tilma had always seemed content to rarely leave Jorrvaskr and spend all her time cooking and cleaning; Lydia would not be. And there would be children eventually, not only hers with Farkas but Aela's daughter as well. He sighed, "Everything is changing so quickly lately. Kodlak and Skjor gone, little ones soon to be running around underfoot… I don't know if I have what it takes, Tilma. I really don't."

"Well, you'd be a bit of a fool if you thought you did. A good Harbinger doubts himself, at least sometimes. I've seen nine Harbingers come and go in my lifetime. Gran raised me here after my mam died birthing me, so Jorrvaskr is all I've ever known, just like you, dear. Skjor often said that we're a family. A rather messy one, at times, but a family regardless. I like the idea of having children raised here. I'm glad I'll live long enough to see Aela's babe born, but I don't think I've quite got the time to wait for Farkas." Vilkas made a sound of pain, and she put away the pendant then smiled and held her arms open, and he quickly moved to gently hug her, mindful of his armor. "Oh, my boy," she said sadly. "There there. It's the way of things. The old always have to make way for the new. To Farkas and Aela's little ones, you're going to be the only Harbinger they know, and Lydia the only mistress of the hall, and it will seem the most natural thing in the world to them, just as everyone couldn't imagine Jorrvaskr without my Gran once upon a time. I've had a good life here, and you boys were a big part of that. You two brought joy into this house, and so will the new little ones. You've become Harbinger at such an exciting time, dear. You really have."

"Will you tell me one thing at least?"

"Of course dear."

"Was Jergen our father?"

"Oh no," she said with a shake of her head. "Of course he wasn't. You two already knew that. But he tried to be. He risked his life to save you two. He was never cut out to be a father, but I think he did a good job with what little he knew. I wish I could tell you who your real parents were, but he never knew either. But he made sure you would be taken care of before he left. He could have taken you two to that orphanage the way Askar wanted, but Jergen couldn't tolerate the thought of it. He couldn't keep doing it himself so he made sure Kodlak would, and when Kodlak knew he was nearing the end and Bryn came along he made sure she would see us through the crisis, and when Bryn knew she had to go and things here were well in hand, she passed it off to you, to see us through all the years after that."

"She didn't have to go," Vilkas said with sorrowful resentment.

"Come now, you know better," she kindly scolded as she let go of him. "She couldn't stay in a place that caused her constant pain. It would be like leaving an arrowhead in a wound. Of course you could live with it, but you would never be right inside. Better to suffer the quick, hard pain and then leave the wound to heal cleanly. The scar will always be there, but it will fade a bit over time."

"Will it?"

"Well, let's hope so." She reached up to pat his cheek, saying sadly, "Honestly dear, what do you think it would do to her to be here watching Aela's baby at her breast? Seeing Farkas and Lydia together, happily married, and whatever children come of that? It would torture her. She came to Skyrim with the sole purpose of marrying and having children. It's nice that you two fell in love, but it didn't change what she ultimately wants out of life. She never wanted to be Dragonborn, she never even wanted to be a warrior. She's gotten everything except the very thing she wanted. If you aren't going to give her what she needs then she's within her rights to go, to leave you both free to have what you really want."

He said in despair, "All I wanted was her."

"On your terms, with no promises, no assurances, and in her mind no hope."

"But…I told her I would marry her!"

"And if she had, that festering wound would still be there. Smaller, less noticeable perhaps, but there. Always making her uncertain, always with the risk of resentment. It very likely would have poisoned things between you in time. She knew that." She clucked her tongue and patted his cheek again before letting go. "And so do you, or you wouldn't have let her go."

Vilkas said in a pained whisper, "I knew this would happen someday. I knew I would ruin everything and end up alone. I always saw Farkas with a family and me in Kodlak's chair, alone." Yes, he supposed he had let Bryn go. He should have fought harder to change her mind, and instead had let her go and had gone to his quarters to feel sorry for himself.

"Pshaw," Tilma said in rejection, waving him off as she turned away. "You'll only be as alone as you want to be."

As the elderly woman shuffled out of the room Vilkas picked up the Amulet of Mara and took it to the chest that contained Kodlak's armor, wanting the thing out of his sight. The chest was locked, and he grumbled and began looking for the key, wondering if Bryn still had it, not that she needed a key to anything with her ability to pick nearly any lock. It was something that he had always found charming, if a bit disreputable. Maybe it was charming because it was so disreputable. He had never had cause to question her ethics though. No one had. He had to give her that.

He opened the drawer of the side table and saw several keys there on a ring, sitting on top of an old leather-bound journal. He nibbled indecisively at his bottom lip for nearly a minute before picking up the keys and the journal, which was obviously Kodlak's. Bryn must have replaced it at some point in the last few months, along with the keys which unlocked the chest and who knew what else; probably the locked cases in the sitting room, and the portion of the Companions' archives in the basement which were reserved for the Harbinger alone.

Vilkas sat down on the bed and began to read, his heart aching with loss. How he missed the old man, missed his steady nature and his guidance. Now Vilkas was the one who was supposed to guide. He'd had little cause to do so, so far, but the others had given him space this last week, well aware that Bryn was gone and why. Even Farkas had left him alone for the most part, other than giving him a shoulder to cry on when it first happened, and someone to rage at since then. Vilkas had been alternately angry and grieving all week, and now he was just grieving. Of course Bryn had every right to leave him; she'd had every reason to believe that he would never marry her if left to his own devices, and she wasn't about to accept marriage when he was doing it under threat. She had stayed calm and made the right choice, just like she always did. And here was Kodlak's entry, saying _Only Brynhilde stands as a true warrior who can keep a still mind amidst these burning hearts_. Bryn had always stayed rational, no matter how much she was hurting inside, and made the decisions that needed to be made, for the good of everyone. Bryn never panicked under pressure, even in battle. Especially in battle. Bryn had been the cool, dependable Harbinger when the Companions needed it, and everyone had been deeply relieved by Kodlak's choice, but Vilkas had to admit that no one had blinked an eye when he had been declared Harbinger. He had been too angry and upset at the time to care, but he was starting to now.

He read the journal through to the end then closed it and put it back in the drawer, for now, until he could put it in the archives. Clearly they needed work if it had been so hard for Kodlak to find the information he needed in them. Putting them in order, creating some kind of index for them, would be a good way to fill his time alone, now that he had plenty of it. He might even start keeping journals of his own, to document the things he had seen and witnessed so far during his time in the Companions, and everything that would happen from here on out. If nothing else, they would be good for a laugh when he was old like Vignar.

Vilkas opened the chest and went to throw the amulet in when he realized Kodlak's wolf armor was gone. Bryn had asked him several times if he was going to follow the old man's wishes and let Eorlund melt it down. It seemed she had gotten tired of waiting for him to do it. She had gotten tired of waiting on him in general. He knelt in front of the chest, feeling anguish bubble up inside him, and he closed his eyes and willed himself not to start weeping. He had taken Bryn's love for granted and had treated her as a convenience. He always felt sad when she left Whiterun but had always been secure in the knowledge that she would come back, that she didn't want anyone but him. It should have been a sign to him that he had felt the temptation to propose to her after that solid month living together after she had become Harbinger. Living with her had been so comforting, and with the beastblood gone he hadn't felt the urge to pick fights with her, and so they had gotten along beautifully. He should have followed his gut and asked her then. Everything could have been different. She might still have died in Sovngarde, but she would have done so knowing she was loved unconditionally.

Sighing heavily with a deep ache in his chest, he laid the Amulet of Mara in the chest next to the ebony armor. He stared at the softly glistening material, coveting it, then he let out a wry laugh. It was his; he could wear it if he wanted, if he felt worthy. He did not. He still wore the wolf armor, like a fool clinging to a past that he didn't even miss. Even Aela looked at him in confusion sometimes, as if she couldn't fathom why he had rid himself of the Blood but still wore its badge. At this point it was simply because he didn't know what else to wear. Maybe he could just have Eorlund or Farkas remove the wolf head from the belt and breastplate. In fact maybe he would do that tonight, before dinner, while the two men were still at the forge. It seemed an easy fix, though he knew next to nothing about smithing.

As he reached for the lid he saw the glint of gold on his wrist, and he resisted the urge to take off the hammered gold bracelet he had worn for most of the last year and put it in the chest as well. He nearly had the day she left, had nearly yanked it off and thrown it in the privy, but he couldn't bear to do it. He had nearly taken it off at least once a day since, though the drive was less each time. He had promised her that he would never take it off as long as he lived. He had to be good to his word, and he had gotten attached to it. It was certainly beautiful. Beautiful and golden, like Bryn.

Vilkas closed the chest and locked it, slipping the keys into his belt pouch as he stood. He would move his things in here when Farkas returned and ask his brother's help in making the room his own. He had no idea how long it would take for it to feel that way, but he had to start somewhere. He didn't think he would set foot in his old room ever again, not until it was time to bestow it upon a new Circle member, maybe that lively new lad Erik, years down the road. The young man was impossible not to like, eager to please, and seemed to have potential. He had that intangible _something_ that the other four junior members lacked; Bryn had seen it in him too. But then Bryn's vision had always been clear.

* * *

"_Dovahkiin_…"

Bryn opened her eyes, feeling a sickening rush of nerves as the Greybeards summoned her to the gathering room. She had stowed herself away in the monks' private quarters on the opposite side of High Hrothgar, to avoid witnessing and getting drawn into any disputes as the attendees arrived. She had heard bickering a moment ago and the sound of Delphine's voice, and it had alternately amused and angered her. So the Blades had somehow found out about the meeting and decided to attend. She wondered if they were trying to pin down their wayward, neglectful Dragonborn. If so they were in for a rather big disappointment. Bryn hadn't been back to Sky Haven Temple since opening it to them, and she had no reason to ever go back.

She rose to her feet and pulled on the dragon priest mask Morokei. She was good at schooling her expressions, but not good enough for a gathering like this. She also hoped that the sight of a cold, blank moonstone mask staring back would impress on all of them her neutrality, and her position. She felt naked without her weapons, which the Greybeards had forbidden to even her, but she wouldn't need them. No one present was a match for her _thu'um_, except the Greybeards themselves. She reminded herself of that as she walked to the meeting room, feeling cold determination settle over her. She was Dragonborn, _Dovahkiin_, and they had better not forget it. It was a good thing she had left Lydia down in Ivarstead, or the housecarl would make sure they didn't forget either, probably in a rather unproductive way.

As she entered the room Arngeir said respectfully, "We all wait upon you, Dragonborn." Bryn nodded and went to her seat. The elder was unsettled by the sight of the dragon priest mask, but it didn't violate the terms he had set her. He looked around the table and directed, "Now that everyone is here, please take your seats so we can begin." As he began to sit he said, "I hope that we have all come here in the spirit of—"

"No!" Ulfric said angrily, his voice ringing through the hall. He pointed at Elenwen. "You insult us, Tullius, insult me, by bringing _that_ to this negotiation? Your chief Talos-hunter?" Torturer. Sadist. The sight of the Altmer woman was driving him mad, no matter how many years it had been, which was no doubt the bitch's intent. Only knowing that it was her intent kept him from losing control. She wanted him to. She always had.

"Hear, hear!" Galmar called.

"That didn't take long," Rikke muttered as everyone but the two Stormcloaks sat. Of course it was Ulfric who had started it, though she had to admit that it was a bit much to expect for him to calmly accept the presence of someone who had tortured him.

Elenwen lifted her chin and said in her reedy voice, "I have every right to be at this negotiation. I need to ensure that nothing is agreed to here that violates the terms of the White-Gold Concordat."

Tullius said to Ulfric, "She's part of the Imperial delegation. You can't dictate who I bring to this council." Granted, she had invited herself, against his wishes. He had known that her presence was guaranteed to inflame Ulfric. He had told the Thalmor so, and she had smugly said that was Ulfric's problem. It had been incredibly frustrating, knowing that she didn't want the truce to succeed, and that if it did she would do everything in her power to immediately start sabotaging it.

"Please!" Arngeir said in exasperation. "If we have to negotiate the terms of the negotiation, we will never get anywhere." He looked at Bryn and suggested, "Perhaps this would be a good time to get the Dragonborn's input on this matter."

Everyone looked at Bryn, and she wrinkled her nose under the mask, already angry. This was not an auspicious start at all. She looked to the Imperial side and they waited patiently. Elenwen stared at Bryn with a feral expression, daring her to kick her out.

"By Ysmir's beard, the nerve of those Imperial bastards, eh?" Ulfric said to her in offense. "To think that I would sit down at the same table with that…that Thalmor bitch. Either she walks or I do."

Bryn grit her teeth, put on the spot, but then that was her job here. This was her trial by fire, to see if she had what it took to make peace. For the first time, seeing the tensions here, she felt the beginnings of a tired resignation that she just might have to become High Queen to bring a lasting peace to Skyrim. She turned her gaze to the Imperial delegation, glad for the impenetrable façade of the mask. Rikke was staring at Ulfric with a look of mixed irritation and worry, while Tullius was staring at the Dragonborn with an unreadable expression, giving her nothing. The fact that he was giving her nothing told her everything she needed to know. Tullius didn't want Elenwen here any more than anyone else did.

She turned to Elenwen and said, "You're right, Jarl Ulfric. The Thalmor have no business here. This has nothing at all to do with them."

"I'm glad we agree on this," Ulfric stated, unable to help letting his relief show in his voice. He would have been unable to concentrate on the matter at hand with that creature staring across the table at him, undoubtedly reliving all the sickness she had perpetrated on him. Only the decades between then and now were keeping him from going after her and strangling the life out of her. That and the sacredness of High Hrothgar. It hurt to be here, where he had spent so many peaceful years as a boy. It made him wish all over again that he had never left, but he wasn't about to give Arngeir the satisfaction of knowing that.

"On this," Bryn warned him.

"Of course, Dragonborn."

Elenwen sneered, "Very well, Ulfric. Enjoy your petty victory." As she stood she continued, "The Thalmor will treat with whatever government rules Skyrim. We would not think of interfering in your civil war." She turned her eyes on Bryn. "And you, daughter of Ennescar," she said in contemptuous Altmeris. "How very far you have fallen, associating with such rabble. Such…savages. And when you had such a noble upbringing. What would your poor aunt think? Your long-suffering grandmother?"

"I was expecting this eventually," Bryn stated coldly in kind.

"I see you haven't forgotten your mother tongue. Good."

She leaned back in the stone chair and tapped her fingers on the arms, saying, "My mother was _Nord_, and _Nord_ is what I've decided I will be."

Not understanding a word of what they were saying, Arngeir stated, "Please Dragonborn, we must continue."

"Yes, please continue," Elenwen went on in Altmeris. "But be careful, _Brynni_. So much rides on your decisions here today. So many lives. Maybe even Altmer lives."

"So predictable," Bryn murmured. "I'm amazed it took you so long to pull that card out of your sleeve." She had prepared herself for the possibility for so long, and yet hearing the threat still made her heart twist in her throat. "Well then, in the interest of complete honesty…"

"Oh yes, I like honesty," she said sarcastically, still smiling.

"They're probably dead either way, and I hadn't planned on ever seeing them again regardless. If I were you Elenwen…you had better hope I don't survive Sovngarde. In fact if I were you I would start running now. You just might make it to the border before I find you." Elenwen's eyes widened furiously as Ulfric barked out a laugh, and when she looked at Tullius he was staring at the fire with the same unreadable expression of cool neutrality, as if like most here he hadn't understood a word. Bryn knew damn well the man had to understand Altmeris. He would be a fool if he had never learned it. If he hadn't understood the entire conversation he would be watching it more closely, as confused as Jarl Balgruuf and the others were, and instead he was acting as if this wasn't even happening. The Elven woman's eyes flicked to Tullius and he gave her nothing, lifting the mug in front of him to take a drink of water, his eyes still on the fire. Elenwen drew herself up and turned and left the room, her nose in the air.

"Ha!" Galmar said in satisfaction. "Skyrim will never bow to the Thalmor!" He looked at Tullius and Rikke. "Unlike her Imperial friends here."

"Enough," Bryn stated, switching back to Tamrielic. "She is gone, that's all that matters."

"Their bringing her here was a direct prov—"

"_I said enough_." Galmar stiffened as Bryn's voice thundered through the hall without yelling. It was surprisingly easy to do, instinctual, something she hadn't tried before, and very effective. Delphine was staring at her with greedy eyes and it aggravated her. Arngeir was watching her with a troubled expression, then he seemed to sigh as he nodded.

The Greybeard said, "Now that that's settled, may we proceed?"

The hour made Bryn's blood boil, and it took all her willpower to keep her temper in check. Esbern's interruption was the only thing that saved the conference, which she couldn't help being grateful for. She was even less unhappy with the agreed upon terms than the parties to it. She liked Jarl Igmund of Markarth and hated the idea of the Silver-Bloods getting any more power than they already had, and Riften…if she had known Maven would become Jarl there she never would have gone along with it falling into Imperial hands. It would certainly make assassinating her one day a bit stickier. She couldn't be sorry about leadership of Falkreath going back to Dengeir, slightly doddering as she thought he was, but he was a good sight better than his corrupt nephew Siddgeir. This entire process had been extremely aggravating, and disappointing. It had certainly exposed the depths of the bitterness between the two sides, and had brought home to her why neither could ever be allowed to win.

Tullius said to Arngeir, "The Empire can live with these terms, yes. For a _temporary_ truce, until the dragon menace is dealt with." He then looked across the table and said gravely, "After that, Ulfric… there will be a reckoning. Count on it." He saw Bryn shaking her head, and he asked, "Is there a problem, Dragonborn?"

Bryn stated, "I'm tempted to leave Tamriel like the Nerevarine did, and to hell with you all. Let Alduin feast on your greedy, petty little souls."

"Dragonborn!" Esbern gasped.

She stood as she pulled off the mask and said angrily, "I'm not going to save this world only for you people to continue tearing it apart!"

Tullius said, "This truce was never meant to be more than temporary, Dragonborn."

"This truce will last as long as you want it to." She leaned her hands on the table and looked around it. "If I come back from Sovngarde and find anyone at this table not holding to the terms of this truce, there will be the _worst_ kind of hell to pay."

Ulfric stated, "The sons of Skryim will live up to their agreements, as long as the Imperials hold to theirs. We will hold the truce as long as they do." It went against everything he believed to say those words, and it was a risk. A terrible risk. It would be giving the Imperials the chance to strike first. Only having the Dragonborn involved was making him chance this. He didn't doubt one bit that she would be true to her word and punish anyone who violated the truce. He wasn't about to put her in the position of having to kill him. He couldn't imagine what that would do to her, and he could tell that she was deadly serious about her threat. He could practically feel the anger radiating off her.

"The first side to break the truce will have _me_ to deal with," Bryn threatened.

Ulfric stood and bowed slightly to her, a wry smile on his face. "It will not be the Stormcloaks, Dragonborn, I assure you. Nords understand honor, something that you will discover the Imperials do not." He turned and strode out of the room, his housecarl behind him. "Come on, Galmar. We have a lot of work to do."

Once he was gone, Balgruuf said with misgiving, "Giving up Markarth was a heavy price for this truce, Dragonborn. I hope it was worth it."

"None of us are happy with the terms, my Jarl, least of all me." She looked at Tullius and said, "General, if I had known Maven was taking over The Rift I never would have given it to you."

"Jarl Black-Briar is a loyal Imperial citizen," Elisif said in offense. Bryn's eyes slowly slid over to her, and she swallowed and sat up straight in her chair, feeling a shiver of fear at the look in those golden eyes that had always been so kind and respectful before today.

"Maven is a criminal and a murderer, and I'm sorry Jarl Elisif, but I don't recall directing my comment to you."

She lifted her chin and said in a barely steady voice, "You are my thane, and I will one day be High Queen of Skyrim—"

"No, you will not." The girl gasped as her cheeks flushed, and Tullius' expression finally turned to one of real anger. "I'm going to tell you what I told Ulfric: neither of you will rule Skyrim as long as I live. I will not allow this country—"

"It is an Imperial province," Tullius corrected sharply, "not a country."

"I don't care!" she barked. "I will not allow either side to keep wasting our resources on this pointless war. The civil war ends _today_, and whichever side moves first to break the truce will have its leader removed. By me."

Elisif sputtered, "I…surely…that's murder! You would murder me like that beast did my poor husband!"

Bryn laughed shortly. "You are not the leader I was talking about, Elisif. You are not _a_ leader. Until you stop looking to Tullius and Falk for answers and affirmation every five seconds, you never will be. Be content to be Jarl of Haafingar and nothing more." Elisif choked out a sound of disbelief, and to his credit Tullius didn't waste his time arguing the point, or flinch at her threat to his life. "I am going to tell you this only once, Jarl Elisif. Ulfric did _not_ murder your husband. He did _not_ Shout him apart. There is no Shout that can do that, and as you can imagine I would be the one person here who would know that. He challenged Torygg to single combat, and the High King accepted. He didn't have to accept. He would have been within his rights to refuse, and he did not. Ulfric swears to me on his honor that he only Shouted him to the ground, and that is all he used the _thu'um_ for." She nearly asked Arngeir to back her up on that, but she wasn't about to involve the Greybeards any more than she needed to.

"It was an unfair fight," she said tremulously.

"Elisif," Tullius said quietly as the Dragonborn snorted a derisive laugh and shook her head. The young Jarl was only making herself look bad. Weak. Childish. She fell silent, near tears. It got to him every time, a weakness of his own, but he wasn't about to show it. He saw Bryn looking between the two of them, her eyes intent, studying, and when her eyes finally settled on Tullius she gave him a slight, knowing smile that sent a cold shiver down his spine, as if she could see every thought in his head. She couldn't, he was sure of that, but it was unsettling. "All right, Dragonborn," he stated in a firm voice. "We'll play things your way, for a while. I swear to you that we will not break the truce. You will see that Ulfric cannot be trusted or hold to his word."

"When has he ever not held to his word?"

"When he took up arms against the Empire and Emperor he swore to serve."

"Shouldn't that vow work both ways? You spend a year being tortured by Thalmor sadists and watch the Emperor capitulate to them after all you've been through and see how strong your loyalty stays." She turned her gaze on Elisif and added, "Those who have always had the luxury of staying safe and well-fed inside high walls and keeping their pretty hands clean and tidy should not be so quick to judge others."

Elisif hissed, "I revoke your status as thane. I hereby confiscate Proudspire Manor and the services of its housecarl." Bryn sighed and shook her head but didn't seem particularly concerned.

"Elisif," Tullius warned again.

"I won't be spoken to in such a way! How dare she!" Bryn picked up her mask and left the table, effectively dismissing Elisif, and she cried, "You get back here! I'm not done with you!"

"This is not Haafingar, Jarl Elisif," Bryn said without stopping. "It's a shame. I liked you. I might again someday if you grow up." She stopped behind Balgruuf's chair and put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm ready to catch a dragon, my Jarl."

"Aye, my friend," he said with a sigh. "I suppose you are." The display had been impressive, and had not left him favoring the Imperials. It troubled him that Ulfric had been determined to hold to peace while Tullius had threatened to break the truce the moment Alduin was defeated. He also hadn't imagined Elisif being so…weak. There was no way Skyrim would hold together with a pretty puppet on the throne. He was glad that Bryn had forced Tullius to promise to hold to the truce as long as Ulfric did. Balgruuf viewed things much as Bryn did, favoring neither side, seeing both sides' strengths and failings.

Arngeir asked him, "Jarl Balgruuf, I assume you are familiar with the Dragonborn's plan?"

He nodded. "Yes, I'm ready to do my part." He looked up at Bryn and gave her a brief smile. "Just say the word, and my men will help you spring the trap."

"But the difficulty remains: how to lure a dragon to Dragonsreach at all?"

Tullius said with dry sarcasm to Bryn, "Well that's an excellent question. You haven't overlooked that little detail, have you?"

Before she could answer Esbern spoke up, saying, "Ah, I believe I can be of help here. I anticipated the problem. While you were arranging this meeting, I was busy in the library of Sky Haven Temple. An unguessed trove of lost lore…but the important thing is that the Blades recorded many of the names of the dragons they slew. Cross-referencing this with Delphine's map of dragon burial sites, I believe I've identified one of the dragons that Alduin has raised up."

"How does that help us?" Bryn asked.

"Ah, don't you see? The names of dragons are always three Words of Power…Shouts. As is yours, Dovahkiin: Dov-Ah-Kiin. 'Dragon Hunter Born'. By calling a dragon's name with the Voice, he will hear you wherever he might be."

"But why would he come when called? What would be in it for him?"

"He's not compelled to come, but dragons are prideful by nature and loath to refuse a challenge. Your Voice in particular is likely to intrigue this dragon, especially after your victory over Alduin. I think it very likely that he will be unable to resist investigating your call."

Bryn nodded. "All right then. What is this dragon's name?"

"Ah, indeed. I am no Master of the Voice like these worthy gentlemen," he said with nods to the Greybeards standing about the room, "but it is written here in this scroll." He pulled out a rolled sheaf of paper. "Od-Ah-Viing. 'Winged Snow Hunter', as I read it, or perhaps 'Snow-Winged Hunter'. Go to Dragonsreach and call Odahviing's name there, and I assure you he will appear."

Balgruuf stood and turned to face Bryn, the others rising from the table as well. He put his hands on her shoulders and said with a grin, "Ah, exciting times, my friend! Let's go catch us a dragon, eh?"

"Let's," she said with an answering grin of her own. The Jarl's blue eyes were gleaming, though there was a hint of fear there as well. Any sane man would be apprehensive about this. He gave her shoulders a squeeze then left to get the trap prepared. She felt another strong hand on her shoulder and saw Legate Rikke there.

"I hope this truce gives you what you need, Dragonborn," the older woman said quietly. "It won't last. It can't."

"It will, because if it doesn't the Thalmor will end up enslaving us all," Bryn replied just as softly. She had no idea where Elenwen was; for all she knew the mer was just outside the room in the hall, though if she had been there would have undoubtedly been a ruckus out there when Ulfric left. "Do you know what that witch said to me? She threatened my family. Right here in front of everyone."

"I never learned Altmeris, but I'm pretty sure that at the end you threatened her right back." She was also sure that Tullius had understood every word. She wasn't sure if Elenwen knew that, since Rikke herself had only gathered as much from his complete lack of reaction.

"She _will_ die by my hand," Bryn promised. Rikke grimaced, and she added, "Let's all be glad that I'm not sadistic by nature, or I would truss her up and deliver her alive to Ulfric. I'll be doing her a favor by killing her myself."

"I ah, reckon so," she said uncomfortably. She smiled at Bryn and held out her hand, and when Bryn smiled and took it she said, "I wish you luck, Dragonborn. We're all counting on you."

"As always," she replied, and when Rikke frowned she let go of her hand and said, "I'm still going to get that audience with the Emperor. Even if I have to fly a dragon to the Imperial City and land on top of White Gold Tower to get it."

Rikke whispered, "By Talos, you probably will." Tullius motioned for her to follow him out, and she left. She would let the Dragonborn do her duty and keep her own counsel, but once the girl came back Rikke was going to have to start working on Tullius in earnest. The Legate had never been fond of Elisif, seeing the same childish fragility and insecurity Bryn did. She would never have the makings of a High Queen, and her allowing Tullius and her steward Falk to make so many decisions for her would make most Nords not respect her, and the half of the country that sided with Ulfric would never fully accept her. The Dragonborn though… well, it was an exciting thought. Rikke's pride in being Nord was equal to her pride in being part of the Legion, and she didn't want the country torn apart any more than Bryn did.

Bryn soon found herself alone in the room with the Blades, and she waited, seeing that they clearly had something they wanted to get off their chests. She still wasn't sure how they had found out about the conference, but in the end it didn't matter. She said to Esbern, "For what it's worth, thank you for your help, Loremaster. It will make all the difference, I think."

"It is my pleasure to serve you, Dragonborn," he replied with a bow.

Delphine said in a wary tone, "Yes, it is. However, there is one more thing."

"Oh, of course," Bryn said with mock interest as she folded her arms. "There always is. Tell me, please."

"We know about Paarthurnax." The Dragonborn's expression didn't change.

"You know…what?"

"That he is a dragon, and the Greybeards have been protecting him all these years." Bryn continued staring at her, saying nothing, though her expression had gotten a bit stonier. "He needs to die. He _deserves_ to die. And it falls to you to kill him." Bryn laughed at that, her golden eyes looking a bit wild. Delphine shook her head in warning and said, "Until he's dead…well, I'm sorry, but we would dishonor our oaths as Blades if we continued to help you."

"I consider us even after today. I've helped you every bit as much as you helped me, if not more so."

Her voice hardened as she said, "Make your choice, Dragonborn. You're either with us or against us."

"Why don't you explain to me just why he needs to die? What has he done?"

"Here's the big picture—"

"Oh yes, and I've been constantly missing that, haven't I!" Bryn said in offense.

"He helped Alduin enslave our ancestors! He may have betrayed Alduin in the end, but that makes him worse, not better. We can't afford to give Paarthurnax the opportunity to betray us in turn and return to his old master."

Esbern added with regret, "Justice demands he die for his crimes. Until he is dead, I'm afraid my oath as a Blade prevents me from offering you any aid and comfort." Bryn's eyes narrowed. "Justice can be harsh, but it is still justice. Paarthurnax deserves to die."

"And I say he doesn't," Bryn said in a dangerous tone.

"If you do not do this, Dragonborn, Sky Haven Temple will close itself to you."

"And I spend so much time there, don't I." The two Blades glanced at each other, and she said angrily, "You Blades are really something. You claim to serve and protect the Dragonborn, and yet over and over again you _demand_ things from me. I do _not_ belong to you and your order. Am I some tame dragon at your beck and call? Think on that, that I have a dragon's soul. Will you seek to kill _me_ when I cease being useful to you?"

"Of course not," Delphine said in a careful tone.

"I'm warning you, if you move against me or Paarthurnax, I _will_ kill you. I will lay out your bodies in front of Alduin's Wall, and Sky Haven Temple will serve as your tomb. The Blades will die out forever and all your knowledge will be lost, as if it had never been." She turned on her heel and said, "Don't approach me ever again. Go back to your secret hideout and wither away there for all I care." She heard Delphine whispering intently to Esbern as she left, and that was fine. The Blades had outlived their purpose, and their demand that she kill Paarthurnax was the last straw. Perhaps someday they might be able to rebuild their order, but it was unlikely at this point, Esbern elderly and Delphine not a young woman, and now that the Thalmor knew they were still alive they would no doubt start hunting them again, or would if they had the time and the resources. They would soon cease to.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Xenomorphjackal, no worries, I knew exactly what you meant. :) And thank you again to everyone who is so kind as to take the time to leave a review. I try to PM everyone and hope I haven't missed any.**

**I would also like to take a moment here to thank the dedicated folks at thuum dot org for their tireless efforts to round out the dragon tongue. I will be using it a great deal more often from here on out and they made that task worlds easier!**

"Harbinger, they're doing it!"

Vilkas frowned in confusion and looked up from his writing at the desk to see Erik standing before him, the redhead breathless. "Who is doing what?"

"The Jarl and the Dragonborn! They're back from High Hrothgar and they're going to trap a dragon, today! The guards say there's a truce between Tullius and Ulfric! The Dragonborn made peace, can you believe it!" Vilkas nodded and looked back down to his journal. Erik said in confusion, "Sir, aren't you going to go up there?"

"Why should I?"

"You're the Harbinger, that's why! They're going to trap a dragon, don't you want to see it? Witness it? The first dragon to be caught in Dragonsreach since the days of Olaf One-Eye!" The jingle of heavy armor behind him made him turn around, and he saw Farkas running towards them. Erik said in excitement, "I can't believe this! Trapping a real live dragon!"

"Yep," Farkas said. "Give us a minute, huh?" The youngster nodded and ran off. Farkas said to Vilkas, "I'm going up there, and you're going with me."

"Forget it," Vilkas muttered. "You think I want to see that?"

"No, but you should." His twin rubbed his eyes, and Farkas said intently, "Damn you if you don't go. You don't have to say anything to her, but at least be there." Vilkas shook his head, and Farkas growled in frustration and left at a run. He didn't have the time to convince his brother, and Vilkas would only have himself to blame later for the missed opportunity. He jogged the entire way to Dragonsreach, passing crowds of Whiterun citizens who were talking fearfully about the summoning of a dragon and the guards who were trying unsuccessfully to get everyone to go to their houses and stay there. They let him pass, and when he reached the front door of the palace his wife was there, waiting for him.

She gave him a brief kiss and said, "He wouldn't come?"

"No, screw him," Farkas said in a resentful voice. "Bryn doesn't need to know I even asked." She nodded in agreement and they went inside, where Proventus Avenicci was herding the Jarl's children through the kitchen to the downstairs. The couple ran through the palace up to the Great Porch, where Bryn stood with Jarl Balgruuf and Irileth. Guards stood ready along both sides of the porch, both above and below, next to the mechanisms for dropping the gigantic yoke that hung above.

The Jarl rubbed his hands together, a wild grin on this face. "As promised, my men stand ready, Dragonborn," he said. "The great chains are oiled and we wait on your word."

"I'm ready," Bryn stated with a grin of her own. "Let's trap a dragon."

"I'm putting my city in your hands, Dragonborn," he reminded her.

"I haven't let a city fall to a dragon yet, my Jarl." She put her hand on his shoulder, ignoring Irileth's narrowed red eyes. "Ready to make history?"

"Aye, my friend! The bards will sing songs of this day a thousand years from now." He was nervous as hell, but this was a day he would cherish the rest of his life…as long as the dragon didn't burn down his mostly timber palace.

"All right then, let's do this." She glanced behind her to see if Lydia had caught up yet, and her expression brightened when she saw Farkas. He smiled at her and moved forward to catch her up in a hug, and when he let go she put her hands on either side of his face and gave him a quick kiss. She saw the sword on his back and said with delight, "Going to help me catch a dragon, eh big bear?"

"Ready when you are, little bird," he answered. "What do you want us to do?"

She pointed to the end of the Porch, saying, "I'll go out there and call Odahviing, and when he comes to investigate I'll ground him with the Dragonrend Shout. I need to draw him in here, under the yoke. I don't want to kill him, or even wound him all that seriously, but he needs to stay away from the walls. He could bring the palace down."

"Got it. I'll take the left side, Lydia takes the right."

"I'm glad you're here, Shield-Brother." There was no one else whose presence here would make her happier.

"Wouldn't be anywhere else, Shield-Sister."

Bryn smiled at him and gave his cheek another pat as Balgruuf walked down the length of the porch, readying his men. Irileth followed at her Jarl's heels, her weapon already drawn. Bryn wasn't sure if Balgruuf had ever become truly attracted to his housecarl or not; she couldn't tell if anything had changed, and she wasn't about to ask now. She had talked to him quite a bit on the way back, but Irileth had been there, watching them intently the entire time, but not any more intently than before. She was relieved at least that the problems with his youngest son Nelkir had vastly improved; a trio of Vigilants of Stendarr had arrived not quite a month ago and had re-consecrated the door, making the whispers go quiet, and Balgruuf had the door to that section of hall walled up and made impassible. Nelkir was still a bit sulky but was talking to his father now and interacting more positively with his siblings.

Farkas and Lydia moved to the sides of the porch as Bryn walked out to join Balgruuf, who nodded to Bryn and blew out a long breath then said, "All right, go ahead and call this dragon of yours. We're ready."

She moved to the parapet at the end of the porch and looked out over the plains. She took a deep breath then shouted, _"OD AH VIING!"_ The sound rang off the surrounding mountains like the peal of a bell, sending echoes in all directions.

"Amazing," breathed Balgruuf. He had never witnessed his friend Shout before. It didn't seem possible that a human body could generate that level of noise and force. Ten or fifteen seconds went by as they waited, and he asked, "How long do you reckon this will—" A distant roar sounded, and soon after they heard the flapping of massive wings.

"Mighty Akatosh, here he comes!" cried a guard. The dragon appeared out of nowhere, flying low over the Great Porch as if sizing up the mortals below. It took a pass over the porch, and the scream of another guard was heard as the beast snapped up one of them and flew high then threw him out over the plains. There would be no saving him, the fall lethal.

Balgruuf shouted to his men, "Steady, steady now! Keep under cover until it's down!"

The dragon circled around the palace then reached the porch again and began to hover, and as it drew breath Bryn Shouted, _"JOOR ZAH FRUL!"_The dragon screamed and wheeled away, the force of its wings buffeting those below.

A guard yelled at Bryn, "We may not be trying to kill him, but he sure seems to be trying to kill us!"

"Not yet he isn't," she replied, keeping her eyes on the sky. "He isn't really trying at all."

"Yeah, right- Ah shit!"

The dragon crashed to the ground, barely able to hold his descent, and growled, "Dovahkiin, here I am!" He was going to kill the impudent _joor _for calling him here and using such base trickery on him. He Shouted fire and the little creatures scattered. "I am mighty Odahviing!" he shouted._"Zu'u los zokmul!"_

"Fall back!" Balgruuf cried to his men, alarmed by the hail of arrows they were sending at the beast. "We need to trap it, not kill it!" They fell back to the shelter of the walls. "That's it! Now, wait until he's well inside!"

Bryn ran down the length of the porch, feeling fire roll over her, and she turned and Shouted again. _"JOOR ZAH FRUL!"_ Enraged, Odahviing came after her, and she resisted the urge to glance up at the yoke, trusting that the Jarl's men were ready. It took all her willpower not to try to kill the dragon, instinct telling her to do it, to take its soul. The dragon crawled down the Porch, and Lydia and Farkas stayed out of the way, as did the guards.

The dragon roared, "I will kill you, Dovahkiin! I, Odahviing, will finally be the one to feast on your flesh!"

Bryn said nothing, keeping her eyes on the dragon, and when it opened its mouth to breathe fire again she Shouted, _"FUS RO DAH!"_ It shook its head in fury and came after her even faster, and when it passed beneath the yoke the Jarl yelled to his men and it came down over the beast's neck, snapping shut securely. She let out a sigh of relief but didn't relax; it could still Shout and do plenty of damage.

"Yes!" Balgruuf cried, his fists in the air. "By Talos, we did it!"

"_Nid!"_ Odahviing wailed in dismay.

"Is it holding?" the Jarl shouted. He was so excited at the moment he felt nearly ready to pass out, which of course would not do. To think they had caught a live dragon! He'd like to see Ulfric try it. The man only knew how to kill things. Balgruuf had stared at the other Jarl all through the peace conference, seething over the thought that Ulfric had been so close to attempting to take his city and unseat him. He wanted to believe that Ulfric would hold to the truce, that he would prove Tullius wrong, and only time would tell. Ulfric was a bastard, but Balgruuf wanted to believe he was still an honorable one.

"Aye my lord, I think so!" a guard answered.

Bryn walked up to the dragon's face and stopped about ten feet away. Close enough. She couldn't help admiring it, a deep red with bluish-white wings. Gorgeous. She didn't think she had ever seen a red dragon before, and wondered why that was. "Odahviing," she said in greeting, letting thunder roll through her voice, and the dragon stretched its neck and moaned.

"_Horvutah med kodaav,"_ he groaned in humiliation. "Caught like a bear in a trap!" The Dragonborn moved closer, within biting distance, daring him, and he resisted the urge to snap, to tear her in half. He would die here regardless, but he couldn't help being curious about why she had done this to him instead of killing him and devouring his soul, as she had done to his brothers. "_Zok frini grind ko grah drun viiki_, Dovahkiin. Ah, I forget, you do not have the dovah speech, do you?"

"Not quite yet, but I'm getting there," she replied. She kept the _thu'um_ in her voice, and would keep it there as long as she was dealing with the creature. She had actually understood most of what he had said. Every time she was exposed to the dragon tongue more of it stuck with her. Like a bird learning the song it was born with, just as Paarthurnax had said.

"My eagerness to meet you in battle was my undoing, Dovahkiin. I salute your, hmm…low cunning in devising such a _grahmindol_, stratagem. So, _zu'u los bonaar_. You went to a great deal of trouble to put me in this…humiliating position. _Hind siiv_ Alduin, hmm? No doubt you want to know where to find him?"

"Straight to the point. I like that. Where is he hiding?"

The dragon chuckled. "_Rinik vazah._ An apt phrase. Alduin _bovul_. One reason I came to your call was to test your _thu'um_ for myself." He paused then said in disquiet, "Many of us have begun to question Alduin's lordship, whether his _thu'um_ was truly the strongest. Only among ourselves, of course. _Mu los ni meyye_. None were yet ready to openly defy him."

"That's good to hear. So where can I find him?" she pressed.

Odahviing bowed his head. "_Unslaad krosis_, Dovahkiin. Innumerable pardons. I digress. He has traveled to Sovngarde to regain his strength, devouring the _sillesejoor_, the souls of the mortal dead. A privilege he jealously guards."

"Shor's bones, it's true," Balgruuf said in horror, hearing gasps and cries of grief from the other Nords around him. He had hoped it wouldn't be the case, that there would be some other way. Bryn seemed completely unfazed, as if she had never doubted it. Doom-driven indeed.

"His door to Sovngarde is at Skuldafn," the dragon stated, "one of his ancient fanes high in the eastern mountains. _Mindoraan, pah ok middovahhe lahvraan til_. I surely do not need to warn you that all his remaining strength is marshaled there." The Dragonborn didn't answer, staring at him fearlessly. It was admirable, as was her Voice. She thundered like a _dovah_ even when she wasn't Shouting. He tilted his head and said to her in an agreeable voice, "_Zu'u lost ofan hin laan_…now that I have answered your question, you will allow me to go free, yes?"

"You haven't told me how to get to Skuldafn. A minor detail."

"Ah yes…_krosis_. There is one…hm, small detail about Skuldafn that I neglected to mention. You have the _thu'um_ of a _dovah_, but without the wings of one, you will never set foot in Skuldafn. It is accessible only by air. Of course…I could fly you there, Dovahkiin. But not while imprisoned like this."

Bryn laughed, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "Fly me there. Do you expect me to take your word for that?"

"_Hi ahraan_," Odahviing said in pained offense. "You wound me, Dovahkiin. I may not tell the whole truth, but I am no liar. The word of a _dovah_ is his bond."

"Hm. Let me think about it."

"Do not think too long, Dovahkiin. This is not a…comfortable position."

"I will take as long as I need, _horvutah dovah_," she stated forcefully, letting the sound roll around him. "I am _kroniid_, I am _S__trundu'ul!_ I decide how long it takes!"

"Yes, Dovahkiin," he mumbled, bowing his head to the stone floor. "I am your _bonaar aar_, your most humble servant."

"You had better be. How long do you think you could survive here, trapped, deprived of the pleasure of flight? I wouldn't even need to keep you trapped here, in the yoke…if you had no wings."

"_Nid_ Dovahkiin!" the dragon moaned miserably. "Surely you could never be so _munax_, so cruel! I am your _zeymah_, your brother! _Traas_, but you do not understand this threat of yours!" Bryn turned away and the dragon keened, closing his eyes. Ah, the humiliation. Any of his kin would have fallen for this trap in their arrogance, but it didn't make it sting any less.

Bryn paused for only a second, seeing Vilkas standing just inside the doors behind the others, half a head taller than most here, Farkas and Lydia with him. Bryn pulled her eyes away, going to Balgruuf. She had no time for this. Whatever he was here for, he was too late. "What do you think, my Jarl?" she asked.

Balgruuf winced and replied, "How can anyone believe the word of a dragon? What if he dumps you off mid-air? What's to stop him?"

"My _zahkrii_, my sword, to his throat. The _dovah_ understand only _mulaag_, strength. I am strongest." The Jarl flinched back a bit, as did the others around him, and Bryn suddenly realized she was still speaking with the Voice. She avoided looking at the others, trying to keep her cheeks cool. She cleared her throat and said in as normal a voice as she could muster, "How long do you think the trap can hold him?"

"Please Dovahkiin!" Odahviing cried. "Do not leave me in this—"

"_Nahlonom!"_ she thundered, and the dragon shook its head and howled and fell silent, shivering. It was hard not to feel a little sorry for the beast. She was not cruel by nature, no matter that she was _dovah_. She would never cut off a dragon's wings, maiming it for what could be an eternity. The dragon didn't need to know that. She turned back to Balgruuf and said, "I can lock my legs around a dragon's neck and keep it from shaking me off. I've done it plenty of times before while killing them. Dragons are nothing if not selfish. He won't sacrifice himself to take me out. That I am sure of."

"It sounds as if this is the only way. The Velothi Mountains are wide and impassible for the most part, and you could hide an entire city away in some of the heights. Sounds perfect for a dragon stronghold." He raised his voice and said to Odahviing, "How many of your kind wait there, dragon?"

Odahviing bared his teeth in contempt, and Bryn demanded, "Answer him. He is _jun_ here, this is his _hofkah_ you are trapped in."

The dragon grumbled, "Many _dovah_ remain there at Alduin's command. Four at least, including an _inseiiz_ and _inseyol_, Masters of Ice and Fire who guard the portal to Sovngarde. Many, many of the _nidilon aar_, the undead servants. And Nahkriin, the priest guardian of the portal."

"All right then," Bryn said in resignation. She glanced at Lydia, who was standing next to Farkas, staring at Bryn with wide, damp eyes. She quietly told her, "Go round up every high quality arrow we've got, everything the Drunken Huntsman and Warmaiden's has. Nothing less than glass." Her housecarl nodded and sprinted inside the palace.

Balgruuf said, "Tell me what else you need, Dragonborn, and it's yours for the taking."

"Only your prayers," she murmured, her hand going to the Amulet of Talos around her neck, the one Vilkas had placed there what seemed a lifetime ago. It was hard not to look at him, but not very. It seemed the peace Mara had granted her was still holding. Talos at least had never failed her. The god of war had smiled on her all along. With luck and perseverance he would get quite a show before too much longer, if she lived and got that meeting with the Emperor.

"That you have always had, my friend. But surely…food, potions…you have to take more than arrows with you!"

"Lydia already has a pack ready for me. She knows exactly what I need. She always has." She shook her head and turned to look at the dragon, who gazed at her with a baleful expression, or so she assumed. They weren't particularly expressive beings. Bryn then did a double take as she realized Farengar was approaching the dragon.

"Farengar!" Balgruuf barked. "What the hell are you doing?"

The wizard didn't hear him, too focused on the wondrous creature before him. He bowed to the dragon, saying, "Uh…sir, you have no idea how long I have waited for such an opportunity! I would be most appreciative if you would permit me to perform some, ah, tests on you. Purely in the interests of the advancement of knowledge."

Odahviing sneered and demanded, "Begone, mage. Do not test my promise to the Dovahkiin."

"I assure you, you will not even notice me," he said as he walked to the side of the yoke. "Most of the tests will hardly be painful at all to a large dragon such as yourself."

Irileth went after the mage at Balgruuf's direction, saying in irritation, "Farengar, very bad idea. Even for you."

He ignored her. None of these brutes around him could grasp what a fantastic chance this was to learn massive amounts of information about the anatomy of dragons. He said to Odahviing, "Surely you won't miss a few scales, or a small amount of blood…" He drew out a sharp blade and approached the dragon's flank.

Odahviing twisted his head about, trying to see past the yoke, but it was impossible. "_Joor mey_, what are you doing back there?" he demanded.

Irileth barked at the wizard, "Farengar, stop, now!"

The second the knife touched the dragon's hide Odahviing Shouted fire in the air, luckily missing the small group near the doors, and Farengar shrieked and fell backwards, only to have Irileth grab him by the hood of his robe and start hauling him away. She only got him a few steps before he turned and fled on his own back into the palace.

"Idiot!" the Dunmer woman hissed. It would figure if the entire palace was burned down because of the mage and not in battle.

"Dovahkiin, let me go!" Odahviing howled. "I cannot tolerate this captivity one moment longer!"

Bryn laughed and went to the dragon, saying, "Numinex was here for years, Odahviing. Surely you can handle not even an hour?"

"The captivity drove him mad! I can feel the beginnings of it in myself already!"

"My _aar_ will return soon, then we can discuss what to do from here."

He lowered his chin to the floor and said with a touch of hope, "You have reconsidered my offer then, hmm? _Onikaan kron?_ You will release me, _ro laan_, if in return I promise to take you to Skuldafn and stop helping Alduin?"

"Yes. I will."

The dragon shuddered with relief. "_Onikaan koraav gein miraad_. It is wise to recognize when you have only one choice." He lifted his chin and tilted his head, studying her as she drew closer. She smelled like a _dovah_, wearing the scales and bones of his fallen brothers. "And you can trust me, _briinah_," he promised. "_Zu'u los ni tahrodiis._ Alduin has proven himself unworthy to rule. I go my own way now."

Bryn let her voice rumble as she reached out and touched the dragon's snout, making it growl and pull away. "What if you served me instead, _sahrot zeymah?"_

"Serve you?" he said in disbelief. "No. _Ni nu_. If and when you defeat Alduin…then I may reconsider."

"I would think hard about it. After I return from Sovngarde…_zu'u drun Kriisfahliil grah_. I could use a mighty _dovah kulaan_ at my side."

"Hmmm," Odahviing growled thoughtfully, and when she touched his snout again he allowed it. "The golden Elves are strong. It would be glorious battle."

Bryn leaned against his head and murmured, "I am mightier. _Zu'u los zokmul dovah_. I am Ysmir, Dragon of the North, _Dovahsebrom. Zu'u los dinok._ They would fall before us like grain to the scythe."

"As I said, when you defeat Alduin I will reconsider my service to you."

"Fair enough." She stood away from him and asked, "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"No, I only want to be free."

"Soon enough." She walked away, and as she went back to the others she said to Balgruuf, "If anyone wants to take a look at him it had better be now. I'm leaving when Lydia returns."

"I am not a pet on display, Dovahkiin!" Odahviing said in outrage.

Balgruuf said to Bryn in a wary tone, "No, I ah…I think we're good here." He licked his lips and murmured, "Golden elves, eh? Glorious battle?" She made a sound of assent, folding her arms as she gazed at Odahviing, who had closed his eyes again and was resting his chin on the floor. "And what of Skyrim? If the peace holds, and the Moot is called…we are still sundered and kingless. We have only a choice between…ah, it is no choice at all." Bryn didn't answer. He grabbed her upper arms and she turned her golden gaze on him, her face like stone. "Tell me you will be there, my friend," he said in a quiet, intent, pleading voice. "Give us another way out. I know you told them both that they would never be given the throne, so tell me who it should be."

"I was thinking you."

His mouth fell open, and when he saw the quirk of her mouth he gave her a shake and yelled, "Don't do that to me, you crazy… By the Nine, you'll be the death of me!"

She laughed quietly at his discomfiture and he let her go to rub his hands over his face. She looked at Farkas, avoiding meeting Vilkas' eyes, and asked him curiously, "What do you think, big bear?"

"Huh?" Farkas said in surprise, giving himself a shake.

"Pay attention," Vilkas demanded.

"Too much talking. I'm going to see what's keeping Lydia."

He made a sound of exasperation as his twin left, appalled by his lack of interest in all this. He knew Farkas wasn't to blame for fading out like that, but one would think it would be impossible at a time like this. Bryn's eyes finally moved over to him, and she stared at him impassively, as if he were nothing more than one of the guards. She blinked slowly, and with her lack of expression she suddenly seemed eerily draconic. Hearing her speak in a voice of thunder, and in the dragon tongue at that, had made him feel a fearful awe, along with a desperate grief. She had leaned against the dragon and demanded its service as if it were something she did every day. She had calmly spoken of mowing down Altmeri armies. She was completely and irrevocably lost to him.

"And what of you, Harbinger?" she asked. "Do you think I should present myself to the Moot?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat and quietly said, "If you can stop the fighting for good, so be it." It made him feel like crying. It was as if they had never been together. Like the last year of his life was a figment of his imagination. Bryn as High Queen…how far she had come from the awkward, insecure stick of a girl who had shown up before Kodlak in her mismatched armor and hacked off hair, who had only had eyes for him. Now she had eyes for no one. Her gaze then fell on the front of his steel armor, and she finally showed a small bit of surprise. "I had Farkas take it off, the day I moved into Kodlak's quarters. I thought it was time." He noticed Balgruuf clear his throat and casually walk away, his people following him.

"You'll be one of the great Harbingers," Bryn murmured, thankful again for the detachment.

"I meant what I said. If the day ever comes that you face the Dominion in battle, I will be there."

"Well, that's a little ways off. I have to get Skyrim and the dragon problem squared away first. Though if Elenwen did what I suggested and started running for the border, maybe it will be sooner rather than later." She folded her arms again and turned away slightly to look at the dragon, and she heard Vilkas move to stand next to her, thankfully a few feet away, not too close. "You should have lunch with the Jarl someday soon. Ask him about the peace conference. It was interesting. Aggravating, but interesting." She saw Vilkas nod out of the corner of her eye. "It's always sad to break a little girl's heart and tell her she won't get to play Queen. Ulfric took his defeat much better than she did. In the end he loves Skyrim more than power, and he's a practical man, however Elisif's sense of entitlement and her dependence on Tullius is pathetic. She could never run this country. She can't even run Haafingar yet without asking for advice every five minutes. Falk does nearly everything for her." It was quiet for nearly a minute when Odahviing softly groaned, shifting his position. She called out to him in regret, "Only a few minutes more, _zeymah_, then the skies will be yours again." The dragon grumbled and settled back down with a sigh.

"Zeymah?"

"Brother. As he called me _briinah_, sister."

"Did the Greybeards teach you their tongue?"

"No. It started coming to me after the first time I spoke to Paarthurnax. The more I use it the more it sticks."

That was rather shocking, and more than a little upsetting. It brought home to him quite well that she was not quite human. "And the Voice?"

"That only started the other day." She paused and said with a touch of worry, "I hope it never gets to the point where I can't shut it off. It…it unsettles people, I can tell."

He glanced at Bryn and saw her frowning slightly, biting her bottom lip. She stared at the dragon with a sorrowful, lonely expression, and it broke his heart. It was his fault. She might have ended up High Queen regardless, in fact it wouldn't have changed her path in life much at all, but she would have at least had the security of knowing she had a husband. She might not have ended up so cold. He couldn't understand how it had happened so suddenly. Her jaw clenched as she sensed his inspection, and he whispered, "Mara help me, I'm so sorry." She grunted in response. "I should have married you when I first wanted to, when we were together all the time after Kodlak died. I should have taken it as a sign and not talked myself out of it."

"Water under the bridge, I suppose." The dragon lazily opened its eyes to watch them. So he really had wanted to marry her at some point. Curious. A little irritating and painful too, but only a little.

Vilkas made a sound of hurt. "Doesn't it mean anything to you?"

"It can't. Not right now. Mara finally answered one prayer of mine: that I have clarity of thought and mind in regard to you until Alduin is defeated. How nice that she started listening to me, just a little too late."

Horrified, Vilkas stared at her with wide eyes, only pulling them away when the doors from the palace opened. Lydia and Farkas were there, his twin carrying half a dozen tied bundles of glass, ebony and Daedric arrows and Lydia with a pack. The couple frowned seeing Vilkas and Bryn standing together, and he controlled his expression as best he could as they approached. Bryn had prayed to Mara to stop feeling for him, and Mara had answered. He supposed he should be glad that she had still cared enough to have to go to those lengths.

Lydia handed her the knapsack, saying, "All the usual, though I packed light."

"Perfect," Bryn said in approval. "I won't need much where I'm going." She turned her back to Farkas so he could refill her quiver then tie the rest of the arrows below her pack. Vilkas stared at her with a despairing expression, and she smiled and told him, "Sovngarde beckons."

"You can tell me about it when you get back," Vilkas said, trying one more time.

She sighed, "Ah, beloved, we both know I'm never coming back. Not if I can help it." He closed his eyes with a sound of pain then turned away. She looked at Farkas and Lydia and said, "I love you two. Take care of each other. I expect to hear about a baby bear before much longer."

"You can count on it," Farkas said in a rough voice. He had to keep telling himself that she would live, and that she would just move to Riften or something, where he and Lydia could go visit her. This wasn't forever. Lydia leaned against him and he put his arm around her, and while she was upset she wasn't crying. She didn't cry easily, and this last time out with Bryn had been good for both women. Lydia fully expected to see her thane again.

Bryn walked back to Odahviing and said, "All right then, _zeymah_, let's go."

"Yes!" the dragon said. "Free me, and I will carry you to Skuldafn."

She called up to the guards at the mechanisms above, "Open the trap!"

The guard looked over the edge and replied in disbelief, "You sure about that? You want to let that dragon loose after all the trouble to catch him in there?"

Balgruuf barked up to him, "Carry on, soldier! This is all part of the Dragonborn's plan!"

"Yes, my Jarl!" He shouted across to the other side, "Get ready to open the trap!"

Balgruuf looked at Bryn and said in an uneven voice, "Talos watch over you, my friend."

"You haven't seen the last of me, my Jarl," she replied. The two guards nodded to each other then pulled the release in unison, and the yoke snapped open then began to lift.

"By all the gods," Irileth breathed as the dragon stretched itself to its full height then laughed in triumph, the walls shaking with the thunder of it. She could only imagine that the look in its eyes was one of hunger.

Odahviing bellowed, _"Faas nu, zini dein ruthi asht vaal!"_

"What did he say?" Vilkas asked Bryn. The dragon turned around in the cramped Great Porch then began to crawl away. The sight of the beast free sent shivers of fear over his skin, and he wasn't the only one by far.

"Fear now," she replied. "My honor keeps my rage at bay. Or something like that."

Bryn simply walked away after the dragon, and Vilkas nearly let her go. Nearly. He huffed and followed her to the end of the porch, seeing the others moving that way as well. The dragon awaited her, watching her intently. One great eye swiveled towards him and he suppressed a shudder and looked away. He quietly said to Bryn, "Don't leave this way, love. It isn't too late. If you come back we can work things out." She glanced at him in irritation, motioning to the dragon as if to tell him that this really wasn't the place or the time. He held her cold gaze for a moment then nodded and moved off to the side to join his brother and Lydia. It seemed it really was too late after all. It probably had been since the second she had taken the amulet off in his bed.

She shook her head and moved toward the dragon's head. Odahviing motioned with his snout towards Vilkas and asked, "That one is _ahmul_, yes?"

"_Nid,_" she said shortly. "_Zu'u lost nid ahmul._ That is why I'm not coming back." She had no husband, and most likely never would.

"Ah." He swung his head close to her. "_Zu'u saraan uth._ I await your command, as promised. Are you ready to see the world as only a _dovah_ can?"

"Yes. Take me to Skuldafn."

"_Brit uth!_ I warn you, once you've flown the skies of _Keizaal_, your envy of the _dov_ will only increase."

"I suppose it would have to, considering the complete lack of envy I have had up to this point." He grumbled and lowered his head to the ground, and Bryn climbed behind the creature's head, settling on a smooth part between sets of overlapping scales. She grabbed onto a convenient horn in front of her then gave his neck a pat and cried, "To Skuldafn, _zeymahi!"_

"_Amativ!_" he cried in reply. "_Mu bo kotin stinselok!"_

The dragon launched itself into the air, making everyone gasp, and Vilkas bit his lip to keep from choking out a sob of grief. He heard a shriek of joy from Bryn that echoed off Dragonreach's walls and the dragon's answering chuckle. He saw her throw her hands in the air and laugh wildly as the dragon circled to gain height. It was good that she was so purely happy right now. She'd had little enough of that emotion in her life.

"What did I tell you, _briinah!"_ Odahviing shouted, reveling in his freedom. "We fly as only the _dov_ can!"

Balgruuf whispered tearfully, "May Kynareth guard you while you pass through her realm, my dear friend!" He felt Irileth's hand on his arm, and he put his hand over hers as they watched the dragon and Bryn grow smaller then turn east and disappear over the top of the palace. He tried to take comfort in the rare affectionate touch from his housecarl. They were still working through this new stage of their long acquaintance, taking it slowly and carefully, keeping it just between them for as long as possible. It was not the kind of thing one rushed, but something to be savored, especially at this stage of his life. He wished he'd had the time and opportunity to tell Bryn that he had finally begun to fall in love again. She would be happy for him. What she would find even more delightful was the real reason behind Irileth's fierce protectiveness all these years. Balgruuf felt like the world's greatest simpleton for not seeing it sooner.

The Dunmer murmured in admiration, "She is either the bravest person I have ever met, or the biggest fool."

"A bit mad perhaps, but she is no fool, and no one can doubt her bravery." He squeezed her hand then she let go. "I need to address the people. Reassure them that everything is all right and our Dragonborn on her way." Irileth nodded in agreement. He drew in a deep breath then smiled at the twin Companions and Lydia. "What a day! Something to tell the grandchildren, eh?"

"Yes, my Jarl," Lydia answered. "By your leave?"

"Oh, yes, yes, sorry. It's been a long week or so for you, hasn't it Lydia?" The young woman nodded, looking sad. As she led her husband away Balgruuf looked at Vilkas, who stared forlornly at the mountains. He motioned to Irileth to give them a minute, and she nodded and moved off to rally the guards to put the Great Porch back in order. Balgruuf was going to be a bit disappointed to see it happen, but ah, what memories this place would have from now on!

The Jarl clapped the Companion on the back, and Vilkas haltingly said, "It doesn't seem real."

"I think a great many of us won't be getting much sleep tonight." He blew out a long breath and said in amazement, "To think we have witnessed such things in our lifetime…it boggles the mind." Vilkas nodded. "I'm ashamed to say that I didn't see you come in, but we were a little busy, eh?"

"A little," he said with a short laugh. He appreciated the Jarl's efforts. The other man was only about five years older than him, so in a way they had both grown up in Whiterun together, though they had rarely had reason to spend time around each other. Vilkas had to admit that he had been such a hellion as a child that they probably wouldn't have gotten along. "I came in right as the trap was sprung. Not exactly good for my heart."

"I can imagine. If it weren't for my children I think I would get roaring drunk tonight. I think you and I could both use it." Vilkas snorted a laugh and nodded. Balgruuf clapped him on the back again and said, "Since neither of us have the luxury of that, at least come see me for lunch one of these days soon, Harbinger. When you're settled. I think we have a great many things to talk about."

"I would be honored, my lord."

As he walked away he said, "Let Proventus know, when you're ready."

"Aye."

Vilkas was left alone to his own devices, and he groaned quietly in grief and went to the edge of the Great Porch to lean on a parapet and look down at the plains below. Bryn had gone nearly the opposite direction, but it didn't matter. For the rest of his life that moment when she launched into the air would be burned into his brain, along with that cold final look she had given him. But at least she had called him beloved once more. _Ahmul_ though…the dragon had asked if he was ahmul. He couldn't even begin to fathom what that meant, and of course Bryn's answer had meant just as little to him, other than it being the reason she wasn't coming back. Not knowing what that word meant was going to drive him mad. What did ahmul mean, and was he or wasn't he ahmul? _Zu'u lost nid ahmul_, she had answered. He repeated the phrase to himself in a whisper, over and over, determined to remember it, though it was nearly pointless since there was no one he could ask. He wasn't about to travel to High Hrothgar just to ask the Greybeards what it—

"Ulfric," he murmured. Ulfric Stormcloak had nearly become a Greybeard. He had spent ten years studying with them and had to know the dragon tongue. He would know what the word and the phrase meant. If Vilkas was ever near Windhelm on business he would stop in, pay his respects, and ask Ulfric if he knew what the words meant. It would make no difference in the end, Bryn just as gone either way, but he wanted to know what those parting words meant.


	31. Chapter 31

"_NAHL DAAL VUS!"_

Bryn shook her head to clear it, squeezing handfuls of snow as she knelt on the ground, the crack of thunder and intense cold and roaring of dragons bringing her back to herself. "No," she whispered brokenly. "Let me stay…" She had begged to stay, and Tsun would not listen to her pleas. _The land of the dead is no place for the living,_ he had said. If only she had died! If only she could have stayed in that peaceful place with its intense colors and fantastic sky. She had always thought Skyrim heaven on Nirn, with its lovely landscape and northern lights, and now…she would never look at anything the same way again. Everything would be dull in comparison, disappointing. After she had begged to stay and Tsun had refused, saying it wasn't her time, that she had not lived her full count of days, she had run across the whalebone bridge and tried to get back into Shor's Hall, and it wouldn't open for her. She could hear the laughter and singing inside, the clink of mugs. She heard them toasting her name, but they wouldn't let her in, no matter how she hammered on the doors.

She lifted her tear-streaked face and found herself at the Throat of the World and numbly wondered why Tsun had seen fit to send her back here of all places, an empty place of white and gray. A place more dead than the land of the dead. Ah, but dragons sat on every outcropping of rock, watching her intently, beautiful and deadly, then suddenly they lifted their heads in unison and shouted, the air booming and cracking with thunder.

"_ALDUIN LOS MAHLAAN!"_ One launched itself into the air and shouted flame.

"Yes, and now what?" she asked herself bitterly as she climbed wearily to her feet, every part of her body screaming with fatigue and aching to the bone. She healed herself and the physical pain retreated, but she didn't know what to do about the rest of it. Alduin was dead, much as she had expected he would be, but there was still so much to do, and she was too soul-weary to do it. But ah, this was a sight to see, her _zeymahhe _magnificent with their godlike voices and terrible grace, shouting fire across the sky. She wondered if all of Skyrim could hear them.

"_Sahrot thur qahnaraan!"_

"_ALDUIN LOS MAHLAAN!"_

One of the dragons tilted its head to look down at her and cried, _"Dovahkiin los ok dovahkriid!"_

"_ALDUIN LOS MAHLAAN!"_

"_Thu'umii los nahlot!"_ another stated.

"It had better be," she muttered. She turned in a circle, watching the dragons wheel about above her as one after another they launched into the air and sprayed gouts of fire. She had assumed at first that they were mourning, but when Odahviing cried _Mu los vomir!_ and wheeled away she let herself relax the slightest bit, glad that she wasn't going to have to attempt to fight nearly a dozen dragons at once. That she did not have in her. Not after what she had been through. Not ever. She would let them finish her if it came to that. She at least knew now with certainty that when her time came she would be welcome in Shor's Hall. Kodlak had promised to greet her at the doors when her time came. Ysgramor himself said he would serve her the first drink. How she wished she could go to Whiterun and tell the Companions what she had seen!

"So, it is done." Bryn startled at the sound of the human tongue, and she turned to see Paarthurnax perched on the blank word wall. He sadly said, "_Alduin los dilon_. The Eldest is no more, he who came before all others, and has always been."

Bryn wiped her face and went to him, saying, "I know he was your brother, but I have no regrets. He had to be destroyed."

"Of course. _Alduin nahlaan daanii_. I would not have helped you if I thought otherwise. You did what was necessary. Alduin had flown far from the path of right action in his _pahlok_…the arrogance of his power." He lowered his head and closed his eyes. "But I cannot celebrate his fall. _Zu'u los tiiraaz ahst ok mah._ He was my brother once. This world will never be the same."

"Nor should it be."

"Indeed. You saw more clearly than I. Certainly more clearly than Alduin. _Rok funta koraav._" He lifted his head and peered at her closely. "Perhaps now you have some insight into the forces that shape the _Vennesetiid_…the currents of Time. Perhaps you begin to see the world as a _dovah_." He huffed. "But I forget myself. _Krosis. So los mid fahdon._ Melancholy is an easy trap for the _dov_ to fall into. Beware that you do not succumb to it, as I often have."

Bryn muttered, "Too late."

"Ah, but you have won a mighty victory, _s__ahrot krongrah_, one that will echo through all the ages of this world for those who have eyes to see. You must savor your triumph, Dovahkiin. This is not the last of what you will write upon the currents of Time."

"I wish it was."

"_Paak._ You have saved this world, as you so wanted to do. As you were meant to do, _naal qostiid_. It is up to you what to make of that world now." He jumped off the wall into the air. "_Goraan!_ I feel younger than I have in many an age!" he cried happily. "Those of the _dovahhe_ who remain are now scattered across _Keizaal_. Without Alduin's lordship, they may yet bow to the _vahzen_... rightness of my _thu'um_. But willing or no, they will hear it! Fare thee well, Dovahkiin!"

Bryn didn't reply, and she watched Paarthurnax climb then disappear into the clouds heading east. The thunder had tapered off but the skies still were thick and gray with clouds, and snow was beginning to fall, some of the flakes so large she could hear them landing around her. The dragons all went their separate ways except for one circling overhead, and as she watched it circled down then landed less than ten feet away from her. _"Drem Yol Lok, zeymah Odahviing,"_ she said in greeting. So he had come back to her after all.

"_Pruzah wundunne wah Wuth Gein._ I wish the Old One luck in his... quest. But I doubt many will wish to exchange Alduin's lordship for the tyranny of Paarthurnax's 'Way of the Voice', well-intentioned as it is. I do not believe you will submit to the _su'um ahrk morah_ of the grey priests either."

"No, I will not. I will never return to this _strunmah_ after today if I can help it." She carefully moved closer to him, and when she reached out to touch the sharp ridge of his nose he permitted it. "And what of you, _zeymahi?_ What path will you follow?"

"_Zohungaar_, you have proven your mastery twice over, _Thuri_ Dovahkiin. I gladly acknowledge the power of your _thu'um. Zu'u los Odahviing._ Call me when you have need, or even if you do not, and I will come if I can. This war of yours against the golden Elves intrigues me. As do you, _mal rekdovah. Pruzah wundun._ Farewell, for now."

Bryn moved away with a nod as he flexed his wings. "For now, Odahviing." The dragon launched into the air with a roar. Ah, but he was beautiful, like no other dragon she had ever seen. She wondered why that was, but not too hard. She didn't have it in her. She didn't have much of anything in her.

She sighed heavily, suddenly alone, though Odahviing continued to circle the peak of the mountain, occasionally vocalizing, almost as if he were waiting for her to call him back. She turned into the shelter of the word wall and slid down against it, and after several minutes the dragon finally left. A fat flake of snow landed wetly on her cheek and she jumped to her feet and shouted angrily at the sky, _"LOK VAH KOOR!"_ The snowfall instantly stopped, and within ten seconds the clouds began to thin out, sunshine peeking through. She moved out of the shelter of the wall then climbed to the very peak of the mountain, the highest point in Skyrim, perhaps in all of Tamriel, maybe even on all of Nirn. As the skies continued to clear in all directions she looked for Whiterun to the northwest, barely visible at this height.

"Oh beloved," she whispered, her heart suddenly aching so intensely that for a split second she considered throwing herself off the peak of the mountain. It seemed Mara's peace had worn off, its purpose fulfilled. Vilkas had tried, all the way up to the very end. She could still see the heartbroken look in his eyes, the vulnerability and naked fear, and she had coldly rebuffed him. She wanted to hate herself for it, but she had done what she had to do, to get the job done. This world would continue, as it was meant to, and Vilkas would live his life without her in the way, and she would…do something. Not run into Ulfric's arms, that was for certain. She didn't dare, tempting as it was. Ulfric was strong, even if there was lingering damage there. He was unafraid, for himself or for her. He had never doubted she would return victorious from Sovngarde, and he had never feared her, though he respected her. No, if she went to Ulfric it would look very bad indeed, make too many people doubt her neutrality.

She longed to go back to Whiterun, the city she loved best, but she had vowed to herself that she wouldn't, not for quite some time, and she knew if she saw Vilkas again anytime soon that she would go running straight back to him, back to the unsatisfying relationship they'd had, because she didn't fool herself that things would be any more satisfying than before. Better to stay away and let him become the Harbinger he was meant to be, let the people she loved get on with their lives. She should let them know she lived, though. Bryn didn't doubt that folk for a hundred miles around had heard the dragons' eulogy to Alduin, but no one would understand any of it except the World Eater's name. For all they would be able to tell, the dragons were celebrating Alduin's victory. Of course they would know the moment she came down from the mountain, but she intended to stay for a while with the Greybeards, to partake of any lingering wisdom they might bestow upon her, and to reassure them that she would never harm Paarthurnax. So, best to let everyone know here and now.

Bryn lifted her head to the sky and shouted, _"STRUN BAH QO!"_ The clouds rushed back with a vengeance as it began to rain heavily, and soon they were swirling ominously over her head in a great eye that would be seen by half of Skyrim. Lightning struck around her, making her hope the Greybeards weren't anywhere within range, but they shouldn't be. She took a deep breath and focused her _thu'um_ as she closed her eyes, summoning up every bit of strength her Voice had, then she Shouted in thunder, _"I AM DOVAHKIIN, DRAGONBORN! I AM YSMIR, DRAGON OF THE NORTH, AND THE STORMCROWN SITS UPON MY BROW! I AM ALDUIN'S BANE, DRAGONSLAYER, DAUGHTER OF AKATOSH, SISTER OF TALOS! HEAR ME SKYRIM, FOR TODAY PEACE REIGNS IN THIS LAND, AND WOE TO ANY WHO BREAK IT!"_

From every corner of Skyrim the echoing calls of dragons sounded, and Bryn laughed quietly to herself as she climbed down the peak. She had gone more than a little overboard, but it would be effective. It would tell everyone she was very alive, and Alduin was gone, and the truce better damn well hold or there would be hell to pay. She wondered what Tullius would think if he was close enough to hear it, if he would write it off as just more foolish Nord mumbo jumbo. She laughed more loudly and the sound rumbled quietly off the rocks, sounding eerily draconic, and she frowned as she started the descent to High Hrothgar. She quietly stated, "I am Brynhilde." The sound softly thundered around her, and she cleared her throat and concentrated on speaking normally. "I am Brynhilde…" There was no change, her voice resonating, and she whispered in a panic, "Oh no!" The whisper sounded normal, but when she tried to speak in a normal volume again the words rumbled off her surroundings, the effect very localized but very noticeable. It was as if she were permanently using the _thu'um._ The way the Greybeards did. All but Arngeir were unable to control the power of their Voices, even their softest whisper booming. She at least didn't seem to have that problem, but nearly so. She would never be able to have a normal conversation with anyone like this!

She hurried down the mountainside, trying to stay calm and not go off the edge of the treacherous path in her haste. The Greybeards would know what to do. Arngeir would be able to teach her how to get her Voice back under control. If he couldn't, if she couldn't, she would be stuck the rest of her life whispering to people- _Like Tiber Septim,_ she thought with a chill of fear. Granted, he had been forced to after an assassin slit his throat (or he slit his own if you believed the heresy), but she couldn't live her life like that. Having a touch of the thu'um in her voice would be extremely effective at times, but not all the time. She would never be able to sit and talk to a friend, never sing to a child without terrifying it. That was not acceptable. Not acceptable at all.

* * *

Iona struggled awake at the sound of a key in the back door, and as she rolled out of the double bed she saw the last person she had expected to see ever again come in. "M-my thane!" she cried, letting her axe fall to the floor. Bryn gave her a brief, tight smile, and Iona ran to her then stopped short of grabbing her into a hug. Not that Bryn would have minded, though Iona wasn't really a huggy kind of person, but it was Bryn's appearance that made her halt. The Dragonborn stared back at her unflinchingly, waiting, and Iona didn't know what to say, her mouth moving wordlessly, then she snapped it shut.

"It's all right, Iona," Bryn stated, the words reverberating only the slightest bit. Iona's mouth fell open again, and Bryn went to throw herself on the bed then realized it had been very recently slept in.

"I'm so sorry, my thane!" Iona whispered, hurrying to strip the blankets and sheets off, but a hand on her arm stopped her. She hastily explained, "The thieves, my lady, they keep trying to get in the house! Not for the last few days, but before that it was almost every night. I had to start sleeping up here, during the day so I could be awake at night, and I couldn't put bars across the doors in case you tried to come back, I mean come home—"

"This is home for now," she said, letting go of Iona's arm. "You did the right thing."

"Well, thank you, I…my thane, I'm…" She rubbed her hands over her face and felt Bryn's hands on her shoulders, holding her firmly. Almost too firmly. It was like being gripped by steel claws.

"This is my home now, Iona. I won't be returning to Whiterun. I asked Vilkas to marry me and he said no, so I left him. I gave Breezehome to Farkas and Lydia, as you already know. Whiterun is too painful for me now, and I love Riften, and I love this house. I despise Markarth, though I suppose I'll have to put in an appearance there soon to the new Jarl, and Jarl Elisif is rather angry with me so Solitude is off limits for now." She did very much like the city, but the layout of Proudspire Manor was rather awkward. This house though, this was her favorite of the bunch.

"Maven is Jarl here now," Iona said with worry.

"Yes, and if she's lucky I will let her continue to be. She owns the Guild and should have told them this house is off limits. She did not. So tonight I go on the prowl." It would give her something to do, to keep the despair at bay. Every moment she spent idle threatened to send her into a crying spell and take off running for Whiterun. She slid off her pack then knelt down to look under the bed; she then made a sound of happy satisfaction and pulled out a sack.

"Ack, I knew I should have cleaned under there!" Iona said, mortified.

"I'm glad you didn't." She dumped out the sack on the bed and heard the housecarl's sharp intake of breath at the sight of Dark Brotherhood gear.

"Please tell me…"

"No, no," she said with a laugh, wincing when it came out a bit too loud. "No, I am not a member, and they are still very much wiped out. No, I liberated this from one of the assassins that came after me. It's all enchanted to help with sneaking around. I'm between projects right now, so…goodbye, Thieves Guild. Leg number two is about to get knocked out from underneath Maven Black-Briar." She would take a few nights to watch their movements before she went after them. She had been to the Ragged Flagon several times and knew there had to be more to their hideout than that.

"But…she still has the backing of the Imperials."

"I'll find a way around that, eventually."

"So…your um…" Iona motioned to Bryn's mouth, and her thane sighed heavily and nodded. "Is it… permanent?"

"I'm afraid so."

"When…when did it happen?"

"Did Riften hear the roaring a few weeks ago? Mine, and the dragons?"

"Yes my lady, most of Skyrim did."

"That's what changed my voice. I stayed with the Greybeards afterwards for as long as I could, trying to find a way to control it. We were only partly successful. Unless I whisper I'll always have a touch of the _thu'um._" Arngeir had felt terribly sorry for her, knowing she had to go back out into the world. The hermits had come to the final conclusion that she was _dovah_, that was what they sounded like, and that was that. The dragons' voices always rumbled when they talked, even when they breathed; it was simply their nature. Her complete mastery of the _thu'um_ had made it a permanent part of her speaking voice. She wasn't at all happy about it. She wasn't sure how she could ever learn to accept it.

"And the uh…the eyes?" Bryn's eyes had always been striking, a golden color that could almost pass for light hazel, but now the irises were truly gold, like polished septims. Even the Altmer didn't have such eyes. Nothing and no one did.

"At some point in Sovngarde, I think." That had certainly been a rude surprise. She'd had no idea they were any different until she had met with the waiting Greybeards and they had practically recoiled from her. How nice that she had saved the world and ended up paying a price for it twice over.

"So you really…Shor's bones, it really is true," Iona breathed. "Your eyes beheld the glories of Sovngarde? You entered the Hall of Valor?"

"Yes, and I will never be the same." She certainly no longer feared death, if she ever really had. She smiled at Iona, who tried to return it. "I'll tell you all about it, but I should get settled in. I would like to see Mjoll tonight. Could you ask her to come here for dinner? Not Aerin though. I'm in no mood for his fussing. I'd like to keep my return as quiet as possible for as long as possible."

"Yes my lady, right away." The housecarl hurried out of the house, and Bryn sighed heavily and began stripping off her dragonscale armor. She was glad once again for Honeyside and its efficient housecarl. Iona was no Lydia, but she was good, and Bryn thought she might take the redhead out on a trip or two. She might have to look into this Dawnguard that she kept hearing about, in an old fort near here. She had heard the guards at the gate talking about vampires getting into town about a week ago; between the guards and Mjoll they had been quickly dispatched, but rumor had it that the attacks were getting worse all over Skyrim. Looking into the vampire problem might keep her busy for a bit, while she waited for the Moot to be called. But first, Riften. She was going to get this town so squeaky clean that Maven wouldn't be able to make a move without exposing herself. Once the town was clean and Mjoll satisfied of that, the Lioness could consider moving to Whiterun and joining the Companions, and thereby joining Aela. The Agent of Mara had no hope for herself, but she would continue to do what she could to help others find a lasting love.

* * *

"Ah, if it isn't Thane Brynhilde, the dragonslayer," Maven said in sarcastic delight. "Welcome back to Riften!" She rubbed her hands on the arms of the throne. "Suits me, don't you think?"

"It is a very nice chair, Jarl Maven," Bryn replied. The older woman's eyes narrowed. "Congratulations on your new position. Who knew you would be the one sitting there when I worked out that peace treaty? I certainly didn't."

Maven chuckled at the Dragonborn's irritation and said, "My title is just a formality. I've always been in charge around here." She leaned her elbow on one arm of the throne and continued, "So, Thane Brynhilde, where have you been for the last month since your magnificent victory? You've been awfully scarce. One would think you would resume running all over Skyrim being a hero." One that Maven was not at all comfortable having in her city or her hold. She wasn't really sure what to do about the girl, or if there was anything she could do at this point. Bryn had completely eradicated the Dark Brotherhood, and the Thalmor were so afraid of her that they had completely left her alone and were consolidating their forces in the Embassy, trying to figure out what to do about her. It was simply criminal that one person should have such an obscene amount of power. It nearly oozed out of her.

"I spent most of that time with the Greybeards, learning to manage my Voice. As you can see, we weren't entirely successful."

"Hm, yes, I noticed the, ah, noise. You really can't turn it off?"

"No, I'm afraid I can't. It's rather a nuisance. Makes it hard to carry on a conversation."

"Yes, it's very distracting. And the eyes? I don't recall them being quite so…odd."

"I beheld the wonders of Sovngarde." The guards and Jarl Laila's sons gasped, as did Maven's guard Maul. Bryn found it very odd that the prior Jarl's sons were still here; it seemed they should have followed their mother into exile in Ulfric's court. "I battled Tsun, Shor's shield-thane, and won entry to the Hall of Valor. I spoke with Ysgramor himself. With King Olaf. With Kodlak Whitemane. When I returned, my eyes reflected Shor's glory."

Annoyed by the girl's showboating, Maven said dryly, "That must have been interesting. So, just back in Riften, I take it? Whiterun no longer suits you?"

"As you may have heard, I had a rather painful split with the current Harbinger. I thought it better to let Whiterun go its own way for a while, and honestly I wasn't needed there anymore. Riften now…I'm needed here, and I do love this city, almost as much as Mjoll does."

"As do we all," Maven said carefully. She didn't at all like the girl's tone of voice, and it had nothing to do with that obnoxious rumbling. Bryn folded her arms, taking her hands off the pommels of her two swords, and Maven swallowed hard as her eyes lit on the sword on Bryn's left. It was quite distinctive. Unique even. There was only one known glass sword in all of Tamriel that was blue instead of green. The girl was also carrying the Blade of Woe across her front, but at least Maven had been prepared for that. Bryn smiled slowly as those eerie gold eyes began to glisten. "Where did you ah, obtain such a distinctive weapon? If I may ask."

"You may." Maven didn't reply, her tongue in her cheek. "Well, as you might or might not be aware, my Jarl, I've been back in Riften for nearly a week now."

"Have you now." And Maul was going to get the tongue lashing of his life for the guards not being aware of that. Damn that Honeyside for having a back door outside the city!

"I figured it best to lay low for a while. You see, thieves have been trying to break into my house lately. Quite bold, really, considering who I am. One might even say it was suicidal." She smiled sweetly at the sudden, poorly-hidden alarm on the older woman's face. "I know how hard you've been working at trying to exterminate this so-called 'guild' of theirs. Years, from what I've heard. Now that I'm done saving the world and all that, I had some free time on my hands and thought I would take care of that little problem for you, with Mjoll's help. And so we have. Just finished up this morning as a matter of fact."

Maven felt a flush of cold then hot rush through her, and she gripped the arms of the throne tightly, resisting the urge to look at Hemming next to her. She could hear his uneven breathing and his shifting in his seat. The entire court was trying not to react, along with the guards. She finally said in a somewhat even tone, "Is that so?"

"Yes. You see, the thieves have been a thorn in Riften's side for so long that we had to do it. Skyrim's side, really. One can't go anywhere without seeing, what are they called, shadowmarks, on all the buildings. I'd noticed them when I first came here but never knew what they meant until I found this interesting book about them in the Cistern. One would think that once the Dragonborn moved into Honeyside someone would have scratched a 'danger' sign on the house, but oh well, that won't be a problem anymore. So, since they've been such a nuisance, I wanted to make sure we got them all, and all at once. I've spent the last five nights shadowing the shadows," she said, laughing slightly. Ah, but this was fun. Maven's face was a strange, mottled mix of pale and flushed that made her look quite ill. Her son Hemming was staring at Bryn with flared nostrils as if he was planning her murder. As if they hadn't already tried. "It wasn't particularly hard. I mean, if I was able to completely eradicate the oh-so-scary Dark Brotherhood, oh, and kill Alduin, nearly forgot that one, what challenge was a bunch of pickpockets and petty thieves? And Thane Mjoll is a hero in her own right, so..."

"Indeed," Maven muttered weakly.

"Did you know the Guild had a secret entrance in the graveyard? Appalling that no one ever noticed that. I've been down in the Ratway a number of times, but who knew that there was a whole other cistern area? They had quite a nice little set-up. And oh, the documentation. I found so many interesting little notes and letters, just like I did in the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary. You can be sure I'm keeping those very, very safe indeed. One never knows when they might be needed." Maven didn't answer, staring past Bryn, the muscles in her jaw twitching. "I'm fairly certain we got them all. They put up quite a fight, especially the handsome redhead. That one I felt bad about. And their leader nearly got away. He had a secret exit into his house. Riftweald Manor, can you imagine? I suppose that's why no one ever saw the owner. He was too busy running the Thieves Guild." She patted the blue glass sword. "Found this little delight though, which made it doubly worthwhile. I've been looking for a sword worthy of counterbalancing Dawnbreaker, and this is certainly it." She smiled at Hemming and said, "You must be steward now. No need to reward me for my hard work, since I have the sword. I'm already so obscenely wealthy that it would be greedy to expect more." Hemming grunted, still staring at her in a homicidal way. The housecarl Maul was red as a tomato, his eyes wet as he clenched and unclenched his hands. So he had someone he loved in the Guild. Shame.

Bryn turned her eyes back to Maven and bowed slightly to her. "Please, let me know if you need anything at all, Jarl Maven. I'm making Riften my base of operations for the time being, so you can be assured that I won't tolerate anyone continuing to contribute to the sorry state of this city, which you have been working so hard to rectify. I may have to travel now and then, to continue my work in Skyrim, but I'm sure that after today no one would be foolish enough to move against any of my housecarls or properties, or Mjoll's, or any of the folk we dearly love, for fear of the rather godlike retribution that would fall upon them and all they hold dear. I'm afraid that my draconic nature gives me a hellish temper at times, and I'm not sure what I would do if that happened. Oh, and the documentation. We mustn't forget that. Wouldn't want that getting into the wrong hands. Good day, my Jarl." She bowed once more then turned and left Mistveil Keep, not waiting to be dismissed. She could imagine the scurrying that was going on in there as Maven tried to figure out what to do. There was very little the woman could do. Of course Maven could go ahead out of sheer spite and try to kill the people Bryn cared for, or burn her houses down, something, but it would enrage Bryn to the point of simply wiping out the entire Black-Briar family. Not Ingun though; she was a nice girl, though a bit too enamored of poisons for anyone's good.

She met Mjoll at the base of the stairs, and the Lioness asked, "How did she take it?"

"What's the word for it…apoplectic? Quietly apoplectic, yes." Mjoll laughed softly at that, only somewhat relieved. "I told her that I would be staying in Riften for some time, to keep an eye on things. I also let her and her people know quite clearly that any attempts to retaliate against either of us or our loved ones would result in her extreme suffering."

"She is not a fool," Mjoll stated. "I would hope she knows when to cut her losses." They fell into step beside each other and the Lioness linked her arm with Bryn's, making the younger woman smile. There were few women taller than Mjoll, so it was nice to walk like this. "I was thinking…it's been a while since I've had the chance to visit Aela. If you will be staying here for the foreseeable future, maybe this would be a good time to go see her. I imagine she must be getting nice and round by now. We write to each other, but…it isn't the same." She cared a great deal for the quietly fierce Huntress, and felt complete when they were together, but they were so rarely able to be together. The thought of her lover giving birth alone, to a fatherless child, was heartbreaking, especially after suffering such a loss. She would have someone with her, certainly, but it wasn't the same as having a partner there.

"That's sounds wonderful. Tell her and the other Companions hello for me." She kept to herself her ultimate goal. Mjoll wouldn't take well to charity, even as kind as she was.

"That I will. Thank you, my friend."

"Would you do me a favor though?"

"Anything, just name it."

Bryn licked her lips then quietly said, "Could you, um, explain? My…problems. If any of them ask how I'm doing?"

Mjoll sighed, "Oh Bryn." She gently pulled the Dragonborn to a stop on the bridge over the canal. They could hear the children at Honorhall happily playing outside, kicking a leather ball from the sounds of it. Mjoll had actually considered adopting one of the children someday, now that Constance was hinting that they would become available soon. The current headmistress had been having counseling sessions with the priests and priestess of Mara and the children, trying to heal old wounds and make the children emotionally ready to join a real family. Mjoll would prefer helping Aela raise her daughter though, however to do that she would have to move to Whiterun. Maybe even become a Companion, since Aela had absolutely no intention of leaving Jorrvaskr.

Mjoll wouldn't mind joining up, finding them a worthy organization; while she would never become a sellsword, she could use the Companions to do good, and she knew without vanity that she would be a valuable addition with their numbers down, and from what Bryn had said Tilma was getting extremely frail, so Aerin might be a good helpmate for Lydia, seeing as how he had no gainful employment of his own and would refuse to be separated from her. It would all be neat and tidy, if not for fear of leaving Riften permanently. But if Bryn were to stay here… She knew the Dragonborn had things to do, places to go, so she couldn't always be here, but with the Thieves Guild effectively destroyed and Maven put on notice much of the problem here was solved.

"What am I going to do?" Bryn whispered painfully. "It's so unfair! Everything I've done, for so many people, and I keep paying and paying. What did I ever do to deserve all of this? As if it wasn't bad enough before!"

Mjoll brushed stray hairs back from her friend's forehead and stated, "You are beautiful, no less now than before. Your eyes reflect the glory of Shor's realm."

"And my voice?"

"You speak with the Voice of Talos himself." She shook her head and went on, "You weren't raised Nord. You still can't possibly understand how most of us feel about our religion, our legends. We revere those born of the dragon blood—"

"I don't want to be revered! I want to be loved!"

"But…you are," the Lioness said in confusion. "All the people love you, and as for men, well, it is no different than before. Only a strong man, or woman, is fit to love women like us, or someone who is strong in their gentleness, like Aerin. Skyrim is full of worthy men who would be eager to love the Dragonborn, who wouldn't be afraid of what you are. They only hesitate to approach you for fear of offending you."

"But…I can't…I won't be able to…ugh," she said painfully, her cheeks turning red. Mjoll stared at her patiently, waiting, and she whispered as softly as possible, her voice breaking, "I'll never be able to have sex ever again without stuffing a damn gag in my mouth!"

Mjoll put her hand over her own mouth. "Oh! Oh, oh no. I didn't…" She hadn't even considered that. Mjoll wasn't much of a screamer herself, and neither was Aela, but she had been with women who were, and while it was quite exciting to hear, the sound of thunder accompanying it could certainly prove distracting. Seeing Bryn on the verge of tears, Mjoll put her arm around Bryn's shoulders and started leading her back to Honeyside. "You will find a strong man who loves you for what you are, who wants to marry you for yourself, and who is secure enough in himself to not be diminished by standing in your shadow. I think this was part of Vilkas' problem, yeah? So tall, so handsome, so strong, so skilled, so honored, and yet suddenly no one sees him when you are around. I truly think this is why he couldn't bear the thought of being your husband. He is a big, strong man, sure, but that strength is brittle. It doesn't bend." She gave Bryn a squeeze and said, "Maybe someday, after he has been Harbinger a while, he will find that he can love you enough to be content standing at your side and letting you lead. He has to be confident enough in himself to be measured in comparison to only himself."

Bryn sighed and nodded. "That makes sense." Still, she had no hope in that regard. None at all. Vilkas had bent, had tried one more time, and she had coldly shut him down. If she approached him now he would reject her, hurt too much to try again, and Divines knew how he would react to the changes in her. She wasn't about to open herself to that. He had already rejected her once. They had wounded each other, more than once. Better to leave it alone and wait for the love to fade. She hoped to Mara it faded!

"Well, you don't make it to my age without learning a thing or two."

"Ulfric…he said nearly the same thing. About Vilkas."

"Yes, about that," Mjoll said in a wary tone, her eyes narrowed. "You would do well to avoid the Bear of Markarth. I will never entirely trust his motives. You told me that he knows he will never be King, but this peace is fragile. All of Skyrim is holding its breath, still. First to see if you could destroy Alduin, now waiting to see what is next."

"This peace will last," Bryn stated firmly. "I won't stand for anything else."

Mjoll smiled brightly at her and hugged her to her. "See, this is why the people love you. You want what is best for everyone, not just those who agree with you." Her smile faded. "But you do yourself harm by trying to save everyone at your own expense. You can't save Ulfric from himself."

"I can if he wants to be saved."

"Hm."

"By saving him I save Skyrim. His death would make him a martyr. I know he isn't a saint. He has done things I find morally repugnant, but the reasons for what he has done are understandable. He is honorable, I truly believe that. If he tells me he didn't murder Torygg, I believe it. If he says he'll hold the peace as long as Tullius does, I believe it." Ulfric wouldn't be happy to hear however that his _thu'um_ had killed Torygg, or Torygg believed that it had. It was possible to kill a person with all three words of Unrelenting Force, someone young and somewhat weak like the High King had been, by slamming them into a wall. Bryn had killed enemies with it plenty of times, usually by Shouting them off a ledge or cliff. As the old cliché went, it wasn't the fall that killed you, it was the landing.

"Then I defer to your judgment, friend. I have never met the man." What Bryn found interesting about the Jarl of Eastmarch was beyond Mjoll. He was an aging, racist warmonger, and not particularly attractive. He certainly couldn't provide what Bryn was looking for in a mate. Vilkas fit the bill much more neatly, if only he would grow the hell up.

"He wasn't what I expected. He wasn't unkind. I think it simply never occurred to him that there might be another way. And for him, there probably wasn't. I've given him a graceful way to stop the war, without loss of face or the loss of any more life. Sovngarde was choked with Stormcloak soldiers and Nord Legionnaires, caught in the mist together. Which I fully intend to tell him first chance I get."

"Well, let me go have a visit with my sweetheart in Whiterun, and when I get back to watch over the city you can go give Ulfric an earful. He respects our traditions and the old ways, if nothing else. It's unfortunate you didn't see his father there. A word or two from the old Bear of Eastmarch might set him straight."

Bryn shook her head, saying, "It was strange, Shor's Hall. I saw fewer souls than should be possible. A few hundred at most. So many have died over thousands of years, and yet...where was everyone? Where was my mother?" She had called out for Heska, mother of Brynhilde, and no one had responded. She hadn't had time to run through the entire Hall looking for her mother, but surely Heska belonged there.

"In my travels I heard some philosophers say that the afterlife simply cannot hold an endless number of souls, that perhaps they go back to be reborn. This makes sense to me. Maybe your mother felt she had left things unfinished here on Nirn and didn't linger long in Sovngarde." Bryn's eyebrows rose then she nodded slightly, looking relieved. "As for the dead not responding to your calls, who knows what mental capacity they retain after death? Perhaps she didn't stay long enough for any to remember her. Perhaps they simply forgot. Who knows?"

"The souls I found out in the mists did seem a bit confused. Hazy, as if it was hard for them to think, but once they neared the bridge they got better. I spoke to Kodlak there and he seemed more coherent, but still not quite himself. I spoke to others inside the hall and they didn't have a whole lot to say either."

"You are alive and don't belong there. I am sure they sensed this. The three heroes you fought with were plenty aware, were they not?" Bryn nodded. They arrived at Honeyside's door and Mjoll let go of Bryn. "You should speak to a Bard of these things. Of your adventures. They should be written down while they are fresh."

"I will end up going to Solitude before too much longer. Just to make sure the peace holds."

"And to see if you still have a house, yeah?" The younger woman laughed at that, then she winced at the noise of it and bit her lip, going quiet. Mjoll shook her and said, "Enough of that. Let everyone hear you laugh. It is a good sound." She let go and added, "Go get some sleep. I think I will take a nap as well after Aerin rubs my feet."

"About Aerin…" Mjoll said nothing, gazing at her impassively, though there was a twinkle in her eye, as if she had been waiting for Bryn to finally come out and ask. She made a sound of frustration and quietly said, "All right, explain it to me. It's been driving me crazy for half a year now. Are you or aren't you?"

"Lovers, is that what you're trying to say?" Mjoll laughed. "You and your delicate sensibilities! I can only imagine what that Elvish family of yours taught you growing up. It is amazing there are ever any baby Altmer born." Bryn grumbled and blushed, making the Lioness laugh again. "Ah, you are a cute one, so tall and strong and yet still so shy. It must drive the men crazy."

"Not really."

"Hey, you know what, you need to get out there and live. Forget about husbands and babies and just go have some fun."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure that would work really well with this…this problem I have now!" And what would Vilkas think? Surely he wasn't going to start sleeping around. Though now that he didn't have the beastblood to contend with women would find him much more appealing, as appealing as they had always found Farkas. The thought sent a twist of pain through her that nearly took her breath away.

"Problem. Pah. Bite a pillow or something." Bryn sputtered then burst into laughter, covering her mouth. "Go talk to the priestesses of Dibella. Surely they have some ideas. It would be criminal if one as pretty as you lived liked a hermit. You are young and famous. Go take a lover or two. You will regret it when you're older if you don't."

"You still haven't answered my question."

Mjoll laughed, "And you are trying to get out of talking about you. I can just see you letting the flower of your womanhood grow dusty and dry, waiting for the perfect husband to come along."

"Mjoll!" Bryn gasped.

"Go on, go to Windhelm and fuck Ulfric's brains out. He wouldn't be afraid of your _thu'um._" Bryn stared at Mjoll with her mouth open, her cheeks blazing. "Then go to Markarth and do that hot housecarl of yours that you've hardly laid eyes on." Bryn put her hands over her face. "Then go to Solitude and have Tullius too. Maybe he will loosen up if he gets laid once in a while."

"You're terrible!" Bryn whispered, mortified. Tullius wasn't much older than Ulfric, but he looked and acted like it, and Bryn had a complete lack of attraction to him. She really didn't find Colovian men all that handsome. Or Breton men. Or really any men at all but Nords. Maybe because she was so damn tall that only Nord men were anywhere near her height. By all rights she should find Altmer males good-looking, having been raised by Elves, but her experiences with her uncle and cousin had left her finding their cold handsomeness repellent.

"I am a strong Nord woman and I take my pleasure where I feel like it," the Lioness said with a shrug. "I have had more men and women across Tamriel than I could ever count. I have _lived_. I'm not a young girl anymore. I've seen thirty-seven winters. I've had my fun and now I want a mate. A wife. You want to know about Aerin? Yes, we've made love, but he isn't my lover. He is my friend, and I owe him my life. Sometimes we feel lonely and take comfort in each other, but he doesn't prefer women, and I do not prefer men."

"Ohhh." Well that made perfect sense. Mystery solved.

"I love Aela and would like to make her my wife, but our circumstances haven't worked out yet. Maybe now that Riften is straightening out, they will. I'll have to go to Whiterun to see. But Aerin follows where I go, until he finds the one who completes him, the way Aela does me. Maybe he will never find that person, but I expect him to keep living until he does. I expect you to do the same."

_But I already have found that person,_ Bryn thought with grief, but she nodded and let her hands drop, giving Mjoll a brief smile. She didn't know how she could ever take a lover without Vilkas' face haunting her. Or his voice. His scent. She didn't see how anyone else could ever compare. He had been such a thoughtful, skillful, passionate lover that anyone else would be inadequate.

"Ah, I see that sad look on your face. The Vilkas look." She took Bryn by the arm and opened the door to Honeyside, ushering her in then closing the door behind them. It was near lunchtime and Iona was fixing slaughterfish steaks and potatoes for two. The Lioness motioned with her chin to the housecarl and said, "You tell her. She needs to go out and find a man or three to take her mind off that Companion."

Iona stood up quickly, surprised, and when Bryn sighed miserably she said, "But…my thane, you're the one who left him."

"Maybe I shouldn't have," she mumbled.

Mjoll told her sternly, "How will you ever know if he is truly the one for you if he's all you've ever had?"

"He's all you've ever had?" Iona said in disbelief. "You're twenty-eight! Um, my thane."

"Yes, she was a virgin when she came to Skyrim."

"Mjoll!" Bryn cried, the sound thundering. "Ugh, I hate this! I can't even…" She made a sound of frustration and sat down hard in a dining room chair and put her head down on her arms.

Mjoll went to stand over her and chided, "I am telling you, if you do not get out there and taste life you will regret it when you're older. What if you do get back together with Vilkas, having known only him? You will always wonder what it would have been like with other men. You'll always wonder if there was someone better out there."

"Believe me, I already know there isn't," Bryn muttered, lifting her head. She saw Mjoll glance at Iona, and Iona shrugged and nodded. "Not you too!" she said in dismay.

"No my thane, but I do know women who have," Iona said uncomfortably. "They, um, well, no complaints, and that's all I will say." The women she knew did seem to prefer the other brother though. Iona regretted that Farkas was already married. He had certainly been an impressive looking man. He had a kinder face and voice than his twin as well.

"I told you!" she said to Mjoll.

"So what," the Lioness said, rolling her eyes as she put her hands on her hips. "So he's a fantastic lover. That's what you get for setting the bar so high from the start. You should have fumbled around as a teenager with a boy instead of waiting so long then going straight for the prime stuff."

"Well it isn't as if I planned it! I've told you how it was!"

"Well now it's different, and you aren't with Vilkas anymore, and I'm sorry but do you really think he is going to stay celibate? A man that looks like that—" She stopped herself when Bryn's lip began to quiver, tears welling up in her golden eyes. "Ah, my friend, I'm sorry," she said with regret, and sat down across from her. "I didn't mean to make you sad, but what do you expect? You left him. He refused to marry you. Surely you thought about what you would do when you came back from Sovngarde."

Bryn whispered painfully, "I thought…I thought I would just keep fighting. Start a war with the Aldmeri Dominion or something."

"Yes, but until then? Surely that isn't going to happen very soon. And even during a war, people want the comfort of a lover now and then. Having sex the night before battle is a time-honored ritual. It is life-affirming to make love when you think you may die the next day." She reached across the table and took Bryn's hand. "Please, Brynhilde," she pleaded softly. "I worry for you. I worry for your soul. You needn't pursue it if you feel you can't, but at least be open to it if it happens. You are so fearless in battle yet when it comes to your heart you're like a frightened little rabbit. You are young yet. You can't spend the rest of your life looking for things to fight, to keep you busy. Eventually you will run out of enemies."

"No, I don't think I ever will."

Mjoll looked at Iona, who gazed back with concern. Neither woman knew what to do with the girl. Iona finally said in an awkward voice, "My thane…you, well, you're very pretty. All the men say so. You really should take Mjoll's advice and be open to a man's interest, if you find him pleasing. You put a great deal of thought into leaving Vilkas. I know you did. So follow through and put yourself out there, and maybe you will find another man that moves you, and if he is worthy of you then he will ask you to marry him. I assure you that Vilkas was an exception. Any man in his right mind would marry you."

Mjoll continued, "Did you not tell me that even Ulfric said he would marry you if you had that amulet on? If that cold bastard would, any man would."

"He is not a cold bastard," Bryn said, offended. "I told you what he did. Those weren't the actions of a cold, heartless man."

Iona asked curiously, "What did he do?" She had gone out to the Bee and Barb to have some drinks and relax the night Bryn had returned and had dinner with Mjoll, so she had little idea of what they had talked about.

"He combed and braided my hair for me. He said I was beautiful. He told me that after I returned from Sovngarde that he…wanted to further our acquaintance."

"So go see him, my thane."

Bryn shook her head. "It isn't his problem. _I'm_ not his problem, and he has plenty of his own."

Iona hesitated then suggested, "Haven't you often found that by helping others you help yourself? Perhaps it might do the man some good. How many years has he thought of only vengeance, and war? How long has he been surrounded by like-minded men, without the benefit of a woman's thoughts?" She shook her head. "He has agreed to the truce and has let everyone in Skyrim know that he intends to hold it as long as Tullius does. No one ever imagined he would do that, my thane. He's a very private man. He may not be what everyone assumes him to be."

"I know he isn't."

"Then if you found him attractive and enjoyed his company, what would it hurt to see where it goes?"

Mjoll said in disapproval, "Because she may be High Queen one day, that is what it would hurt. Go take a tumble with him, fine, but trying to form any kind of relationship with him is out of the question. How would that look to the half of the country that doesn't favor his cause? It would make her look biased."

"Oh," Iona said with a grimace. "I hadn't considered that."

"He's also old."

"Not even fifty," the housecarl said in dismissal.

"What, are _you_ in love with him?" Mjoll teased, making the redhead blush as her eyes narrowed.

"He's a very charismatic man, but to answer your question, no," she said sourly, turning back to tend to dinner.

Mjoll turned back to Bryn, who was sullenly staring at the fire, and said, "I suppose it isn't a bad idea to visit Ulfric. He was nearly a Greybeard. If any potential lover would understand your Voice it is him. Perhaps you could help each other, for a time. Reinforce to him that there is another way than his. Win over his officers. Then when you are done there, you head straight to Solitude and balance the scales."

Bryn sputtered in horror, "I will never bed that stiff old—"

"No no no," Mjoll laughed, entertained by Bryn's prim fussing. "I was only joking earlier. I meant that you should spend time in Solitude talking to Tullius and his officers, to let him and the people of Skyrim know that you take both sides seriously. Equally." She stood from the table and said, "I'm off to take a nap after our busy night. You eat and sleep. Rest," she stressed. "You need to truly rest, all right? I'm going to head to Whiterun tomorrow and see my pretty Huntress." Bryn nodded, and Mjoll bent to kiss the top of her head then let herself out.

Bryn huffed and got up from the table to remove her armor. Iona brought her warm water and a cloth to wash with, and when her housecarl looked at her speculatively she said in embarrassment, "Go ahead and tease me about it like Lydia used to. The Virgin Thane. Purer than the snows at the Throat of the World."

Iona couldn't help chuckling at that. Bryn grumbled and began to wash. Iona said, "Really, my thane, we're only trying to help. I look at you and…it would be a waste, that's all. Mjoll perhaps went a bit overboard, the way she always does. I don't think you would be comfortable sleeping around. You…well, it seems you're one who takes matters of the heart seriously. All Nords do, once they're ready to marry, but you aren't entirely Nord." Bryn looked thoughtful at that. "From what I know of Altmer, mating is not a trivial business, for the most part, from the time they're young, unlike the Dunmer. Maybe there's some of that going on. Maybe monogamy is entirely natural for you and once your heart is given, there it stays. But I think Mjoll is right that you'll regret it later if you don't at least try someone else, if only to compare. I find Ulfric handsome, and honorable. I don't make excuses for some of the things he has done, but then I think news of such things is often exaggerated."

"I'll think about it."

Her lady's tone of voice told her the subject was now closed, and Iona left the matter alone. Iona was more comfortable with Bryn now, and was sure even that would improve, but it still wasn't easy broaching personal subjects with her. Iona just didn't feel it was her place. Of course Bryn had gotten used to Lydia's extremely familiar ways, so Iona had that to contend with. Iona could never fill that spot for her thane, and wasn't going to try.

* * *

**A/N: Sincere apologies to all those who love the Thieves Guild. Don't hate me!**

**Also, sorry that I didn't get into the battle with Alduin and all that. I really detest writing any kind of fight scenes and suck greatly at it, and I assume that most of us don't read fanfics for the fight scenes. At least I don't.**

**Thank you to all who have been reading and commenting; it means a great deal to me.**


	32. Chapter 32

Bryn felt a gentle touch on her head, and she opened her eyes and looked up to see Dinya's dark face. The Dunmer priestess of Mara smiled at her, and she swallowed back her tears and whispered to her, "Why does Mara hate me so? I pray and pray, and still she torments me!" In the week since getting rid of the Guild, Bryn had done nothing but rest and think about what to do with herself, wondering endlessly if she was doing the right thing by going to Ulfric. She did like Ulfric, and she did want him, but she _loved_ Vilkas. It was his voice and smell and body she dreamt about, not Ulfric's. It was Vilkas she missed, every minute of every day. Dinya knelt by her, no easy thing as huge as her belly was, the priestess due to have a child any day now. Bryn couldn't really imagine what a half-Dunmer, half-Redguard baby would look like, but once again it seemed Mara was taunting her with things she would never have.

"Oh my child," Dinya sighed in sympathy. "Have you thought that maybe Mara is telling you what to do and you aren't listening?" The naked pain on the girl's face was heartrending. The girl had been in here every day and spent hours on her knees.

"I want her to make me stop loving him!"

"Mara doesn't capitulate to the demands of mortals, even one such as yourself," she said in warning. "She granted you her peace while you saw to a very important task. That task is done. If thoughts of your beloved still haunt you, then go to him."

"And have him reject me again? After what I did?"

"What you did was while you were operating under Mara's mercy. You told Vilkas this, didn't you? If you go to him and tell him how you feel, surely he won't reject you. And if you fear so much that he would reject you again, then maybe he isn't the one for you. Wouldn't you rather go see him and know for certain? Better to know, and have the chance at a lasting love, or deal with the final sharp pain of knowing you aren't meant for each other, than to keep suffering like this." Bryn made a whining sound of grief. "If you love him, go see him and tell him so. If he truly loves you, then he will make things right and take you back with open arms."

"And if he doesn't?"

"You keep saying that. Why would you want someone back who you fear would reject you? You asked him to marry you and he said no. It was a panicked reaction on his part."

"Just as panicked as his agreeing to it later."

"Yes, when he realized he was going to lose you. He didn't want to lose you. He asked you one last time to come back to him and work things out, even as terrified as he was when you were on your way to Sovngarde. He did try. That tells me that he wouldn't push you away if you went to him now. He is probably hurt, yes, but he did love you, so he still loves you, as much as you still love him. Go see him."

"I…I have to think about it."

"To give you time to talk yourself out of it, no doubt," Dinya said in a tone of displeasure. By the Nine, the Dragonborn was enough to try even the patience of a priestess of Mara. She climbed to her feet, Bryn quickly moving to help her.

"Well…what if I wrote him a letter?"

Dinya wrinkled her nose and said, "Weak, but an acceptable compromise. However letters get lost. Couriers do run into danger on the road. How will you know if he even gets the letter?"

"I'll send it along with a letter to Farkas and Lydia. If they answer my letter I'll know Vilkas got his."

"All right. I'm telling you though, with only your best interests at heart my child…you should go see him. If he looked into your face and heard your voice tell him you still love and want him, that would make all the difference. Words on a page don't have the same impact."

"Yes, I'm sure seeing my freakish eyes and hearing my voice booming at him would really seal the deal." Dinya slowly shook her head, her lips pursed in disapproval. Bryn sighed, "You're right, I'm sorry. He wouldn't let that bother him." Vilkas had told her to never be embarrassed by what she was, but what she was had changed. She had become something neither of them had ever bargained for. She would go write a heartfelt letter to her beloved right now, bare her soul to him, beg him to forgive her and take her back, ask him to come to Riften and marry her, and if he accepted they could work out the details of where to live after that. If he didn't accept, if he wrote back and told her no, or simply ignored her and didn't answer at all, then she would know for certain and could move on with her life. But not until then.

* * *

Ulfric sat down in a chair to remove his boots then gasped in shock to see a hooded figure sitting cross-legged in front of his fireplace. The servants had been in here just half an hour ago to prepare his room for the night and would have sent up an alarm if someone was in here. That someone had infiltrated his palace without anyone noticing was highly disturbing. His heart hammering, he slowly began to go for his war axe on the nearby table.

"I'm sorry to intrude."

The soft echo and feminine voice made him relax, and he said with a touch of irritation, "Have you become a Nightingale, Dragonborn? You do seem to enjoy sneaking about my palace." He should have known it was her. Only Bryn would have the sheer gall required to do such a thing, or the ability.

"Maybe it shouldn't have so many shadows."

Ulfric frowned at the odd statement, one that sent a shiver of foreboding through him, as did her strange way of returning to his city. He hadn't heard much about her since her return from Sovngarde, other than the news that she and her friend Mjoll the Lioness had eradicated the Thieves Guild. Ulfric was sure that hadn't sat well with Maven, and probably continued to stick in the woman's craw. In the month and a half since then though Bryn had seemed to simply linger in Riften, doing nothing that anyone could tell other than spending time every day in the Temple of Mara and some time at the forge, smithing. He had heard the rumors though about her eyes and Voice. He was sure that hadn't gone over well with the girl. He bent down to pull off his boots and said, "So, Alduin is dead and your truce still holds. What are your plans now?"

"I don't know. Unify Skyrim. Start a war with the Aldmeri Dominion. Hunt vampires. Something."

"Hm." He set his boots aside then shrugged out of his wolf fur and chainmail coat, the room growing comfortably warm. As he began pulling off his breastplate and gauntlets he said, "You've been quiet since Alduin's defeat. I've been…concerned."

"I stayed with the Greybeards for over three weeks. Trying to get control of my Voice. It didn't entirely work. They couldn't do anything more for me."

"That seems hard to believe," Ulfric said with worry. "Not that I don't believe you; I do. It's that Arngeir has completely mastered his own Voice. He should have been able to show you how to do the same."

"He did, somewhat. It was worse than this, believe me. They think it's because of my nature. The dragon blood. I am _dovah_ and this is what we sound like."

"When did this start?"

"After I Shouted at the top of the Throat of the World."

"Ah. We heard only echoes of it here." All of Skyrim had talked of nothing else for weeks afterwards; those who had been close enough to hear it in all its terrible splendor had said it was like some terrifying and wonderful goddess was calling out from the mountaintop, like Kyne herself, with a massive storm swirling over the peak. Ulfric wished he had been close enough to hear more than distant thunder. He hadn't even realized at the time that it was her, but word had moved quickly across the land.

"I focused too completely on my _thu'um_, let my Voice go to its fullest, and I can't put it back. This is permanent. The only time I have no _thu'um _is when I whisper." She rubbed her eyes, hearing Ulfric approach on bare feet. He hesitated then sank down next to her, grunting a bit as his knees creaked and his spine popped. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what? My battered old body?" he said in amusement. He studied her profile, finally able to see her face, framed by a fur hood; she was wearing the sabre cat cloak she had worn before, over simple but rich clothing of a yellow tunic and grey wool pants with finely tooled leather boots. The fire lit up her face in a way that made his heart ache anew, as did her expression of barely controlled grief. So it wasn't simply desire for him that had brought her here. Well, the reason she was here didn't matter, only that she was.

"For coming here."

"Why should you be sorry for that? I'm not." He reached out and pushed back the hood, saying, "You must be roasting in that." She nodded slightly. He undid the silver clasp and pulled the cloak off her then carefully laid it aside. Her pale blond hair was loose on her shoulders, though messy from the cloak. He combed his fingers through it, the tresses shining in the firelight, fine as spider silk. He saw her swallow as a tear welled up, balancing there on the edge of her eye before spilling over and sliding down her cheek. He resisted the urge to wipe it off as he murmured, "You grieve something. What is it?"

"I wish I had died in Sovngarde."

"You are the only one who does," he said gravely.

"My mother wasn't there, not that I could find, but I spoke with Ysgramor. King Olaf. Jurgen Windcaller. Kodlak Whitemane. King Torygg." She heard Ulfric's sharp intake of breath as he pulled his hand away. "He thinks you killed him with the _thu'um._"

Ulfric stated in a fierce whisper, "And I swear to you that I did not!"

"He told me on the steps of Shor's Hall, 'When Ulfric Stormcloak, with savage Shout, sent me here, my sole regret was fair Elisif, left forlorn and weeping. I faced him fearlessly, my fate inescapable, yet my honor is unstained. Can Ulfric say the same?'" She saw him shake his head out of the corner of her eye, and she said with regret, "I do believe you, Ulfric. I've thought about it since then, and if he was knocked senseless with the_thu'um_ then that was the last thing he remembered before dying." He didn't answer, his breathing strained. "Well, my honor is hardly unstained, is it? I murdered that old biddy who ran the orphanage. I frightened her to death." Ulfric stayed silent at the confession. "Tsun said I would be welcome in Sovngarde and Shor's Hall when I died, but I couldn't get back in. I beat on the doors and they wouldn't open again, but I could hear them singing inside, toasting my name. I should have slit my throat then and been done with it."

"No, you should not have," he finally said, keeping his tone even with an effort. What a terrible thing for her to wish!

"You should have seen it there," Bryn said in a voice full of pained yearning. "All the colors were brighter, more intense. Flowers and water like nothing you've ever seen, and the sky…oh, the sky, more beautiful than the aurora ever is here, and the Hall of Valor was greater than any palace you could imagine. For days it was all I saw when I closed my eyes. Once the mists cleared the souls began to flow towards the whalebone bridge. So many, many Nord dead. Stormcloaks and Legionnaires, brothers and sisters again in death, no longer divided as they had been in life. The war ceased to exist for them there."

Ulfric said in a choked voice, "As well it should. Yes." Ah, how it wounded him to hear that.

"I thought I would spend some time here in Windhelm. A week, a few weeks…I don't know. Then I'm going to Solitude to meet with Tullius, for an equal amount of time. I may have nothing else, but I will make sure this peace holds and the Thalmor are driven out of Skyrim."

"Nothing else?" He used his thumb to wipe the drying tear from her cheek. "I ask again what you're grieving, because I don't believe it is Sovngarde."

"I sent Vilkas a letter, from Riften. Asking him to forgive me and come to Riften, to be with me, to marry me, or barring that to just take me back however he would have me. He never came, and he never wrote back." Ulfric sighed and began to pet her hair. "I sent it with a letter to Lydia and Farkas, and they wrote me back, so I know he got it. I waited, and waited, and the day came and went, so I waited some more, just in case, but he never came. I really thought he would. He begged me to come back to him after Sovngarde, and then when I try he ignores me?" She could only guess how painful it would have been to be standing before him when he turned away from her one last time. Every day she had waited had ripped out a tiny piece of her heart, and now it was a tattered, bleeding mess in her chest.

"He is a fool, and that is all there is to it." He gently grabbed her chin and turned her face to his, tired of staring at her profile. "Ah," he murmured. "I hadn't thought you could get more beautiful, and yet you are." Her eyes were startling, but breathtaking, no longer Altmer but something else entirely that he couldn't begin to understand. He didn't need to. "People say your eyes reflect the glory of the Divines, and I see it is true."

"I'm a freak!" Bryn whispered.

"No. The gods have marked you. Unfairly, yes, but there is nothing freakish about you. There is some reason they have set you apart as they have. Perhaps it is only to keep you from falling into the hands of a weak, unworthy man." He ran his fingers back through her hair. "A woman like you…it would be tempting to put you on a pedestal. I think that is what most of Skyrim has done. You are something godlike and untouchable to most men."

"Most men?"

The question made him bite back a smile, as did the searching look in her eyes. The hope there. "Well, I must admit I am not like most men. For the good and the bad." He wound his fingers in her hair, bunching it in his hand, then he let it fall again. He had never felt anything so fine, so soft, each strand shimmering in the firelight. "I see and hear the Divine in you, and I know what you are. I respect it without fearing it. I understand the _thu'um_ and your nature. I think Vilkas never quite comprehended that he had a dragon in his bed. A _rekdovah_." She-dragon. Bryn blinked at the word, her eyes wide. He ran his thumb along her bottom lip, feeling warmth building in him at the thought that she had come here to him, to his private quarters, at his usual bedtime, wanting his comfort and understanding. It flattered and humbled him that she had come to him for that. There were plenty of women over the years who had wanted other things from him, but never that. "A…let me think…_brit yuvon rekdovah_," he murmured. Her lips parted at the sound of the dragon tongue, and he nearly laughed at what Arngeir and the other dried up old priests would think of him using the sacred speech for seduction. Not that this was a seduction, when the Dovahkiin was so very willing.

Ulfric smiled at her and let his hand fall, saying, "As romantic as this fireside talk is, I think sitting here on the floor is crippling me." Bryn made a sound of dismay and sprang to her feet with enviable energy, and when she offered him her hand he took it without shame and let her pull him to his feet, and nearly off them. "By Talos, you're strong!" he said in disbelief. He had known she was, and that was only a taste, but it was stunning nonetheless. She frowned and let go of his hand, but he kept hold of it and pulled her close, ignoring the aches and pains. Hopefully he would cease to feel them at all very soon. "I meant nothing by it, Brynhilde," he assured her. "Your strength is part of your beauty. The sight of you in Candlehearth Hall is burned into my brain. You took my breath away. You could have had me then and there and I don't think I would have even thought to lock the door."

"And what about here and now?"

Ulfric laughed breathlessly at the soft yet fierce question, her eyes dilating and getting an intense look that he could only call predatory. "Gods yes," he whispered. "If you have as little care for my scars as I do for your nature, then by Dibella you can have me any way you want." He made a sound of surprise as she practically lunged at him, locking her lips to his. He returned her eager kisses, a hot lust surging through him that he hadn't felt since he was a young man, and even then it hadn't felt anything like this. Bryn broke away and practically tore off her clothes, getting them off before he could get his shirt over his head. He nearly told her to slow down when he felt the warmth of soft breasts against his chest and her arms going about his neck. He threw his shirt to the side and kissed her deeply, running his hands over her lithe body, hardly believing it was happening like this, and not about to question it. He didn't dare. Didn't dare think too hard about any of it, for once. Her hands trailed down his back and he ignored a twinge of self-consciousness about it, knowing what she had to be feeling, something he had never let another woman lay her hands on. She didn't let it stop her, and he felt a tug at the waist of his pants that made him growl into her mouth.

"Ah, _kodaavi…_"

His breath caught at the word, shocked, and when she sank to her knees and pulled his pants down along with her then took him in her mouth he had to grab for the headboard of the bed to keep his knees from buckling. He watched, panting, as she worked enthusiastically at him, bringing him nearly to the edge within minutes. Her eyes flashed open when he stopped her, not about to let her finish him, and he pulled her up by the hair to kiss her again as he kicked off his pants. He pushed her toward the bed and she climbed up, and he went after her and flipped her onto her back so he could look at her. "Glorious," he breathed. "Sweet Dibella, you are fucking glorious..." So tall and pale, golden curls above pale pink skin that begged to be tasted. Now if he could remember just how to do this, and do it right.

Ulfric bent down and did ran his tongue over her, making her moan and grab handfuls of his hair. She smelled and tasted mercifully, completely human, and he slid two fingers inside her and up, pressing, and she cried out and grabbed the blankets, the sound echoing around them and making him smile in relief and satisfaction. She whimpered and bit her lip, trying to stop the sound, but when she peaked there was no stopping it, and he didn't care, finding the thunder of her pleasure outrageously exciting. He hoped the entire city heard it and knew he was the one responsible. He crawled up her body and plunged into her, making her cry out again, and held still there, savoring the feel of her. He bent to take a rose pink nipple in his mouth, murmuring against her, "Do you know how much I have wanted this?" Her long legs wrapped around his waist, and he leaned up to nuzzle her neck and moved slowly inside her.

"Please," she moaned, frustrated by the slow pace, but when she bucked her hips against him he laughed and slowed down even further. Then he suddenly reared up on his hands and thrust into her hard, making her cry out, and any thought of the noise she was making fled as she grabbed the headboard above her. He did it over and over again until she was nearly sobbing, arching against him, then he fell onto his elbows and kissed her hard. She tried to catch her breath as he slowed to a stop, shuddering against her as she felt him pulsing inside her, his breath coming in nearly silent gasps against her mouth. The sensation was strange, entirely different from anything Vilkas did. She pushed thoughts of him away before the grief returned. With Ulfric here it wasn't hard to do, but she couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt that she had finally been with someone other than her first love. Well, he'd had the chance to keep her to himself. Ulfric's loving wasn't as sensuous as Vilkas' had been, but plenty good if he really had been with as few women over the last thirty years as he had claimed he had.

When Bryn's legs unwrapped from his body and her hands let go of the headboard, Ulfric said breathlessly against her cheek, "Dovahkiin, do not think I will let you go after this. Not on your life." He stayed inside her and leaned to the side enough to put his hand on her breast and knead it gently. He felt her twine one leg with his as he kissed her neck, then she put her arms around him. There was something oddly comforting about being with a woman his height, one so strong. She was no delicate flower that needed protecting. He wasn't a man who found weakness in a woman enticing, or an affirmation of his manhood. Ah, to think he had claimed the Dragonborn… He understood the honor and glory of that a thousand times more than the Companion ever could. Now that he had seen her in all her naked glory, felt and tasted her, the thought of letting her go was intolerable. The thought of this being just as itch to scratch...well, he had been wrong before, and it wouldn't be the last time.

"I was too loud," she whispered, mortified.

"Hell no."

"Everyone heard me!"

"I doubt that. These stone walls are old and thick." He sat up on his elbow to rub his nose against hers. "Like me."

Bryn laughed merrily, the sound ringing off the walls, making him chuckle in response. She put her hands on his cheeks and gave him a gentle shake. "No old man could have done to me what you did, _kodaavi._" He wasn't entirely wrong about the other part though. It was amazing how different he was from Vilkas, not quite as long but a bit thicker, more curved. It had certainly felt quite nice, naturally hitting a magical spot in her that Vilkas had to angle himself for. She pushed thoughts of him away again as Ulfric kissed her nose affectionately, unexpectedly.

"Ahh, I like that pet name, _rekdovahi_, my sweet she-dragon." She giggled, and he growled and dug his fingers into her ribs and tickled, making her squeal and laugh hysterically as she struggled, her muscles down there clenching around him enticingly. Her girlishness delighted him, though it couldn't help but make him feel his age. He shivered, sweat cooling on him even in the warm room. He pulled out with a sigh of regret and rolled away from her to find something to clean off with. He went to a wardrobe and found a cloth then wetted it from a water pitcher and cleaned off then tossed it to her. She sat up on the bed on her knees and wiped off then let his seed drain into it, and as he poured a goblet of water then drank it down he watched her. She noticed his attention and blushed, looking away. He snorted a laugh and said in a wry tone, "You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you? You truly don't." Her entire body rippled as she shrugged one shoulder, frowning, and her hair was a golden halo around her head. Completely divine. He returned to the bed, handing her a fresh goblet of water, and pulled back the sheets to get under the covers. After a brief hesitation she got up to put the goblet away and toss the cloth aside.

"I um, made sure I wouldn't conceive," she murmured as she looked for her clothes.

"Thoughtful, but not the end of the world if you did." He was well aware of his need for an heir at his age, and the thought of a Dragonborn child of his blood ruling Eastmarch, and perhaps all of Skyrim, was a highly appealing one. Ulfric rolled onto his side to see her staring at him with a look of either shock or hurt, he couldn't tell which. He motioned to the socks in her hands and demanded, "Get rid of those and get into bed." Bryn hesitated, a guarded look coming down over her eyes. "Did you bring a housecarl or hireling to Windhelm with you?"

"No." Iona had insisted on coming and she had gently dissuaded her.

"Someone waiting for you somewhere?" She shook her head. He patted the pillow next to him. "Come. It's been a long time since I've shared pillow talk with anyone. I'd like you to stay." He hadn't spent all night with a woman since the Legion, and the notion of waking up to Bryn's face in the morning warmed him.

"All night?"

Ulfric frowned in confusion. "Of course. Why wouldn't you? You can stay here with me the entire time you're in Windhelm if you'd like. I would enjoy your company." The offer seemed to pain her, and she bunched the socks in her hands so tightly that it seemed they would come apart. He wondered if maybe he was overwhelming her, and then he realized that her upset had begun when he had brushed off her concerns about a child coming of their lovemaking. Well, that had been stupid of him. He had been trying to reassure her, forgetting that she wanted a child desperately. And a husband. He had to admit that at the moment his thinking wasn't particularly clear when it came to her.

"Maybe…maybe I should go."

"Only if you want to, but I'd like to know why you would want to." She seemed on the verge of tears all of a sudden, and he sat up in bed, venturing, "I'm sorry if my comment about conceiving upset you. I'll be honest and say that it would make things complicated, but I've never been one to shy away from complications. I told you the last time you were in Windhelm that I'm not averse to marriage, though we both know that I would benefit from it much more than you would."

"That isn't true," Bryn said in denial.

"I'm not a young man. I'm twenty years older than you and then some. Even that Companion was ten years older than you. You should find a man your age for marriage and children."

"Men my age are boring. I like mature men. Strong men. Men who have lived."

He could see that, and why that was. Most likely her nature would tolerate nothing else. "And what if you become High Queen?" She looked troubled at that, looking away from him to the fire. "Yes, you know that it's a very good possibility at this point, don't you. All of Skyrim, all of Tamriel, knows that you brokered peace between me and Tullius, something that should have been impossible."

"Only the dragons made it possible."

"And yet that is the reality. There is peace here now. It's held for over two months. People are getting used to it. Frankly, so am I." He paused then said in a lowered voice, "Your words about Sovngarde… they trouble me. I have always done what I thought was right, what I thought was honorable and best for Skyrim."

"I know that."

"You can't marry me if you become High Queen. It would not sit well with a large number of people."

"I'm not even a Jarl!"

"Yes, and I think that would actually be an advantage. What is it you told me, beholden to all and none? That is why you became thane in all the holds. All but mine." He smiled suspiciously at her and added, "Is that what all this is about? You want me to make you my thane?" She threw the socks at him, making him laugh. He tossed them aside and patted the bed again. "Come. Get in bed and forget politics for now. There are enough hours in the daytime for that." Just when it seemed she wasn't going to do so, Bryn moved, sliding into bed next to him. He rolled over to face her, sitting up on his elbow to look down at her. She reached up to stroke his left cheek, running her finger along the scar, actually three running parallel to each other. "That was rightfully gained in battle, against the Forsworn over twenty years ago. Don't worry on that account." She moved her hand down to his shoulder, fingering a round, puckered burn scar that made her frown deeply, and he caught her hand and brought it to his mouth. "Do you think to mentally catalogue them all?"

"Why not? I want to know what they did to you. I want to know what kind of monsters they are." Ulfric grunted, searching her eyes, hesitating as he licked his lips, then he nodded and let go of her hand. Bryn pushed down the covers to look at him, seeing a body that wasn't as lean and toned as Vilkas' but still impressive, more heavily built, only a slight softness around the middle that didn't detract from his appeal any, and neither did the silver hairs sprinkled amongst the blond on his chest and stomach. But there were too many scars, many more than Vilkas had, who made his living fighting. She rolled him onto his stomach and felt a wave of nausea at the sight of a web of scars across his back, a criss-crossed pattern of old lash marks, left to heal on their own, some of them knotted as if they had gotten infected. She pushed the covers down further and saw them on his backside, even across the backs of his legs.

As Bryn pulled the covers back up to his waist he felt the hot splash of a tear on his back, and he sighed and rolled over again. "You see, this is what I did not want," he said in an uneven tone. "Those marks were made before you were ever born." The thought made him feel incredibly old. And yet for all her youth she was still here, wasn't recoiling from his disfigurement, just as he had known she wouldn't. It was the only reason he had taken off his shirt in front of her, something he hadn't done in front of anyone but Galmar in three decades.

"I'm going to kill them all," she choked.

"I would hope you would do so anyway, not just because of me." He wiped her cheeks then pulled her down to him, and she made a sound of grief and laid her head on his chest, putting one arm over him to hold him tightly. She sniffed as he pulled up the covers over them both then petted her hair, staring at the ceiling. He smelled lavender coming from the fair golden strands, a scent that he would always associate with her from now on. He had to wonder if he had made a terrible mistake in fostering their attraction to each other, had to wonder if he had put them both on a path that couldn't possibly end well for either of them. He wasn't quite sure what he had been thinking, that he could be with a woman like this and not want more. Maybe some part of him had realized it and had pushed him to it. A being like her came along once in an era, and the thought of making her his wife was nearly irresistible. Not only because she was young and beautiful, powerful, but for the prestige and validation of having the Dragonborn as his partner. It wasn't as if he hadn't fantasized about what he could accomplish with her under his banner, as Galmar had said more than a few times. Well, it was the end result that mattered, not how it came about. If Bryn could drive the Thalmor out of Skyrim, freeing folk to openly worship Talos again and go about their lives as they once had, without fear, he didn't care how it happened. If she could push the Thalmor and the Aldmeri Dominion out of Cyrodiil, back to Valenwood and the Summerset Isles, so much the better.

"But would you? Marry me if I asked?"

Ulfric laughed softly and answered, "If I said yes to that question back then, I would imagine this would make me even more likely to say so." To have this all the time…well, he was no fool like the Harbinger of the Companions. He couldn't imagine the vanity, or the insecurity, involved there. That Vilkas had rejected Bryn's offer of marriage not once but twice was inconceivable to Ulfric. She would have been better off with the younger man, he didn't doubt that. He knew with complete honesty that he himself was not a great lover, if only due to lack of practice, and he certainly wasn't a handsome man, not even when he was young. Vilkas and Bryn must have made a striking couple when they were together, and they would have had tall, gorgeous children. Fool, fool, fool…

"All right. I'm glad." She lifted her head to look at him, and when he smiled it softened the harsh planes of his face. She kissed him tenderly, smoothing back his dark blond hair, shot through with silver. She played with one of his braids, tickling his nose with it, and he laughed then tweaked her nipple, making her squeak in surprise then lean in to kiss him deeply. He responded warmly with a growl, and when she ran her hand down his stomach to fondle him he was only slightly hard. No, he wasn't as young as Vilkas, but at least he was willing to be _ahmul_ to her. At least he didn't panic at the thought of children. With more stroking he hardened under her hand as his own slid between her legs. She would see where this went, secure in the knowledge that if nothing else Ulfric was willing. The dragon in her found him a fitting mate. Not her first choice, but not a bad one in any way. Ulfric understood that, and understood what she was and didn't fear it, had never shrunk from it. Or from her, or forever with her.

* * *

Galmar folded his arms as he saw Ulfric finally emerge from the hallway leading from his quarters to the war room, and when the girl followed he let out a sound of offended shock. "I'll be damned to Oblivion!" he growled. "What the hell is this? How did she get in here?"

Ulfric laughed and said to Bryn, "See, I told you." He left it at that, her pink cheeks telling him she knew exactly what he meant. Galmar's room was just down the hall from Ulfric's and he obviously hadn't heard a thing, though the way his friend snored he might not have anyway, and Ulfric's room was up the stairs from everyone else's. He said to his housecarl, "We have a guest, Galmar. The Dragonborn has been here since last night. I would have her treated with respect." Galmar grumbled and glared at Bryn, who gazed back unflinchingly, though she still blushed. "I'm hungry. Is breakfast served?"

"Breakfast was an hour and a half ago!" Ulfric laughed more loudly at that and Bryn giggled, her hand over her mouth, and the look between them made Galmar's eyebrows rise. So they really had. Slept together. Ulfric was having an affair with the Dragonborn. The woman had spent the night in the Jarl's bed, as no woman ever had. Ulfric rose at the same time with regularity, and if he had slept this late then it wasn't hard to guess that he hadn't slept much the night before, and the reason why. Ulfric gazed warmly at the girl, and she bit her lip and smiled back with obvious affection, and Galmar nodded slowly and pulled his eyes away, his heart aching with mixed sorrow and relief. He quietly stated, "Well then, I'll have Sifnar warm it back up for you."

"Thank you, Galmar."

The housecarl went to the kitchen and ordered breakfast for the Jarl and a guest, since Jorleif was attending to things elsewhere, and the old servant didn't blink an eye or ask any questions, just as he shouldn't. When Galmar returned to the war room he saw Ulfric and Bryn leaning over the map, Ulfric's arm around the girl's shoulders. The sight threw him for a loop, complete unused to seeing his Jarl with a woman. Well, if there had to be a woman here, at least it was a worthy one.

"You see, there are three passes into Cyrodiil," Ulfric explained. "The Pale Pass, where you were captured; those gates are kept locked now and only Tullius' command can reopen them. Another in Falkreath, further west, near Halldir's Cairn, and another to the southeast in Riften. The Rift gate is open but heavily guarded by Imperials."

Bryn stated, "Nothing a dragon can't fly over, if I have to." She heard a sharp intake of breath behind them, and she kept her eyes on the map as she said, "I'm sorry Galmar, I can't turn it off. I've tried."

He cleared his throat and stated, "You are Dragonborn, and that is all there is to it." He moved around the other side of the table and said to Ulfric, "Remedial education, eh?"

"Something like that," the Jarl answered. He glanced up at his old friend and saw Galmar looking between the two of them with a strained expression. He kept his arm around Bryn's shoulders and she kept her eyes downward, not challenging Galmar in any way, deliberately. She was well aware now that Galmar meant more to him than any of her housecarls did, even Lydia. "My lady dragon here is the greatest warrior in Skyrim, however we both know that doesn't always translate well onto a formal battlefield. The Companions have taught her well, but there are areas that are lacking, through no one's fault."

Bryn said with misgiving, "I may never get it."

"If you are to be High Queen, you must."

"Isn't that what advisors are for?"

"Yes, but you must know enough to tell if their advice is sound." She sighed and nodded, her brow furrowing as she stared at the map. Ulfric stood up straight and put his hand on her lower back, Bryn still leaning on her hands. He said to Galmar, "You've never steered me wrong in that regard, old friend."

Galmar muttered, "In _that_ regard? Huh." Ulfric snorted a laugh. "High Queen. So. Do you think they will call a Moot?"

"Balgruuf may. Brynhilde says he practically begged her to go if one is called. He is a neutral party, as is she—"

"You think anyone is going to believe that after this?" He motioned between the two of them.

Bryn said, "After this, I'm going to Solitude and spending an equal amount of time there."

"Not doing the same thing, I hope." Instead of growing angry she took the comment as intended and burst into laughter, the sound ringing off the stone walls. Ulfric seemed just as annoyed as he was amused, his eyes narrowed and his tongue in his cheek.

"Bedroom diplomacy, is that what they call it Galmar?" she said with a grin.

"Maybe," he said with a chuckle. Her golden eyes gleamed at him, startling now that she was looking straight at him. _No hard feelings?_ was what she was saying, smiling sweetly at him, and he nodded with a snort. He hooked his thumbs in his belt. "So, why do you need to go to Cyrodiil, and on a dragon at that?"

"Oh, I don't need to, not yet. Not unless I'm chasing Elenwen. Her neck has a date with my sword. Haven't decided which one yet."

"I haven't heard that she's tried to leave Skyrim. The Imperials watch the passes, and we watch both. By all reports she and most of the Thalmor left in Skyrim are holed up in the Embassy. Pretty tidy, eh?"

"A little too much so. I could only imagine how they have the place booby-trapped. They obviously don't understand what I've spent most of the last year doing. I can pick any lock, disarm any trigger, skim over any pressure plate, and on top of that I learned about casting Wards during my brief time at the College."

Galmar sneered, "Mages."

"Hm. Well, I'm not a mage, but I did see many in the Hall of Valor. Tsun called it 'the clever craft' and said that Nords had forgotten the respect they once had for it, but in Shor's Hall they never had."

"Great Divines," the housecarl breathed. "No shit." He wasn't about to tell Wuunferth that. The wizard already had trouble getting his big head through a doorway.

"Well, as I said, I'm no mage. I'm an expert healer, but other than that the only spells I've used with any regularity are Soul Trap for keeping my weapons charged and Wards when I'm faced with a Rune." She stood and stretched her back, Ulfric's hand falling away. "I'll go to the Embassy after I deal with Tullius and Elisif. I need him on board before I start anything with the Thalmor."

"Start! Wouldn't you say you've already done that?"

"Oh no. Whatever I've done up here was minor, just picking away at their numbers. I could have had them all taken care of by now if I wasn't worried it would force Tullius to do something he really doesn't want to. He despises Elenwen. He'd be just as happy to have her head on a pike as I would."

"Is that so."

"He understood every word I told her at the peace conference."

Galmar looked at Ulfric. "Is that true?" Ulfric had told him on the way down the mountain about the conversation, with a great deal of smug pleasure.

"She just said so," Ulfric stated with a frown. "But if you're wondering how she knew that, I saw it as well. Everyone who didn't understand Altmeris was obviously confused, wondering what was passing between Elenwen and Brynhilde. Tullius however stared at the fire with an expression of complete neutrality. Tullius most likely knows Altmeris, and doesn't want the Thalmor to know he does." Which Ulfric couldn't help finding somewhat admirable. He had no patience for political games and intrigue, too direct for that, and could only imagine the machinations Tullius was forced to deal with, or anyone of any rank in the Imperial City. Well, they had put themselves in that position.

"Huh," Galmar grunted. "Well then, let's hope Tullius does agree to work with you, Dragonborn. I should tell you that maybe the Thalmor haven't been seen passing through the gates, but Imperial messengers have been." Ulfric of course already knew that. Bryn made a sound of interest and looked back down at the map. Galmar leaned on the table and stabbed Riften. "We control Falkreath, so the passes there are cut off from Solitude, but the Empire controls The Rift now. They have to take the long way, but there's definite movement through that single gate. No reinforcements coming in though, not even as a trickle to throw us off. _That_ we have been on a close look-out for." He eyed Bryn and asked, "Did you notice anything while you were in Riften?"

"I did notice Maven receiving Imperial couriers fairly often, but she never seemed very happy after they left so I was content with that," Bryn stated. She smiled and added with satisfaction, "In fact she hasn't been very happy as Jarl at all." She looked out into the main hall and asked, "Is Laila here?"

"Somewhere," Ulfric said sourly. "I was not pleased when she came here seeking asylum. She blames you for her current status. I explained the matter to her once. She took the hint and has kept her mouth shut since then." He heard the clink of dishes being set in the hall, and he took Bryn's arm. "Let's go eat, my beauty. I'm fairly starving at this point, for some reason." She laughed and blushed, something she did so easily, so charmingly.

Galmar stayed in the war room while the two ate, hearing soft conversation and occasional laughter, and it made his throat tighten. He knew his Jarl was attracted to the girl, and Ulfric had said it was mutual, but this… Ulfric seemed genuinely happy. Maybe even in love, and the Dragonborn looked at him with obvious affection. He glanced out at the long table at one point when it grew quiet and saw Ulfric whispering in Bryn's ear, then the girl giggled madly then clapped her hands over her mouth when the sound echoed, and Ulfric shook his head and pulled her her hands down.

"No," he said firmly. "Be what you are." Bryn gazed at him for a moment then smiled at him and nodded.

"All right, _kodaavi._"

Unable to tolerate it, Galmar went upstairs to his quarters, busying himself with sharpening his axe, though it hardly needed it. He had to do something to distract himself from worrying about Ulfric, something he was unused to doing, or at least had been for some time, other than the brief time he was in Imperial custody before escaping from Helgen. That had taken a year or two off his life. This was different though. It wasn't Ulfric's physical safety he was worried about this time. This...this was so much more risky than that.

He heard boots in the hallway half an hour later and wasn't surprised when Ulfric showed up in his doorway. He grunted and asked, "Did your guest go on her way?"

"Only temporarily," Ulfric said, coming in and closing the door. "She left her gear at Candlehearth Hall, and she had an errand to run to The White Phial. She'll be back soon."

"Huh. You're closing the door. This can't be good."

Ulfric leaned against the door, folding his arms. "Go ahead, old friend. I know you've been dying to."

"I hope to hell you know what you're doing," Galmar said intently, worried, and came to his feet. "Damn it, Ulfric! Everything is turned around now. You sleeping with the Dragonborn…what is Tullius going to do when he finds out? And he will find out. I don't care that she's going to Solitude after she's done…doing whatever it is she came here to do, and I doubt it was just to warm your bed."

"I've had women warm my bed, Galmar," he said in a tone of warning. "Not often, but I know the difference."

"All right, bad choice of words." He knew bedroom matters were a touchy subject with his Jarl. Even as a young man in the Legion it had never been easy for him to casually bed women, and after being in Elenwen's clutches it had been nearly impossible. Galmar had never reminded Ulfric of his duty to marry and produce an heir, knowing how painful the subject was to him. He knew better than anyone, having seen the tears Ulfric let no one else see. He couldn't begin to conceive of what the Thalmor witch had done to Ulfric to make him so put off by sex, and Ulfric had never been able to come out and actually say it, but what he could imagine left him wanting to cry for Ulfric even now, thirty years later. That his Jarl was so smitten with this girl made Galmar want to do the same, and he was torn between tears of happiness for him and tears of anger, dreading that he would end up deeply hurt.

"Very. Between you and me—"

"You always know it's only between you and me, damn it."

"She has only ever been with that Companion. This was not a casual thing for her. For either of us." Galmar frowned, clearly worried, and he said more gently, "I appreciate your concern, old friend. To be honest I have concerns of my own, but they are more for her sake than mine. I don't want my association with her to cost her the throne. If I cannot be High King, then I will make sure she becomes Queen, for the sake of Skyrim as a whole, and the people finding out she's my lover will not help her reach that goal with the half that support the Empire." Galmar grunted in assent, already well aware that their dreams for Ulfric to take the throne were dead in the water. He wasn't particularly sorry about that; his love of Skyrim was greater than his love of power. He said with difficulty, "I tried to remind her of my age, and hers. I told her she should find a young man to marry and have children with, and she wouldn't hear of it." Seeing Galmar's mouth drop open he shook his head and said impatiently, "No, no, that came out wrong. We aren't talking of marrying, or having children. She assured me last night that no children would come of it and I told her it wouldn't be a tragedy if it did. She asked me the last time she was in Windhelm if I would marry her if she asked, hypothetically, and I told her yes, as any sane man would, and I told her so again last night. I was reassuring her, that was all. That idiot Companion rejected her proposal, twice."

"His loss, I suppose." Galmar himself would never marry a woman like that. His beloved late wife Eldi had been a strong woman, but in a woman's way, running the household and raising their now-grown daughters with a firm hand. Brynhilde was a true warrior, a dragon in human form. If Ulfric thought he could handle that, fine, but Galmar frankly thought men their age had no business bedding young women, and even less trying to actually keep one around for any length of time, and this wasn't any young woman. The girl would chew Ulfric up and spit him out again, and it wouldn't matter if it was intentional or not. A young woman that age had a certain…energy that men their age simply couldn't keep up with.

"Yes, I suppose," he agreed, "and I know she still grieves the loss. I can't ever be to her what he was."

"No reason you should be."

"True. Very true." He stood away from the door and went to sit on the edge of Galmar's bed near his friend. He sat there for a second then blew out a breath and laid back to look at the ceiling, hearing Galmar chuckle as he sat back down next to him.

"Tired, are you?" Ulfric barked out a laugh. "So?" Ulfric was silent, and Galmar poked him in the ribs. "Come on, give a lonely old man something to work with here."

"A gentleman never tells."

"Since when did you become a gentleman?" Ulfric gave him the middle finger, making him guffaw. He couldn't remember the last time Ulfric had done that. "Kodaavi. What does that mean?"

"My bear, in the dragon tongue." He laughed, "I was thinking last night how I would like to see Arngeir's face if he ever found out we were whispering sweet nothings to each other in the sacred speech. He would be horrified, I think. But Brynhilde says she will never go back to them unless she has to, so that will have to remain a mystery." Galmar was silent, and he looked over at his friend to see Galmar looking at him with a pained expression. "You worry for me," he murmured. "It's been a long time since I've seen a look like that on your face."

"I don't want it to end badly. She could wound you to death without ever meaning to."

"There is always that possibility with any woman. _This_ is the one I choose to take that chance with." He sighed wistfully and looked back up at the ceiling, putting his hands behind his head. "Ah Galmar, she was…splendid. Fierce, and yet in the next instant she would melt like a warm snowberry. It was as if one moment she was a dragon and the next a butterfly, and her body velvet and steel. I've never let anyone but you see the scars, and yet with her I was unafraid. She is so…damn strong, and when she vowed to kill the Thalmor just because of what they had done to me, it…I felt…peace. She was looking at the scars and I felt one of her tears fall on my back, and at the time it was simply sad, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since." He licked his lips, hearing only Galmar's rough breathing, and went on, "This morning I woke up and saw her lying there, and I told myself it was a mistake that I had just taken a half-Altmer woman to my bed, and then I thought about that single tear. She was there at Helgen, there in that cart right next to me. There is meaning in that, Galmar. Maybe it was meant to happen like this, that it was a half-Elven woman who was sent to make me whole again, to fix what her father's people broke."

"Damn it, Ulfric," Galmar choked, rubbing his eyes as he got off the bed. "What the hell are you trying to do, anyway?"

"Make you love her as much as I do, maybe."

"After one night?"

"No. I think it started after she gave me the dossier. I never told you that, did I? How she poured me a mug of mead, knelt in front of me and wrapped my hands around it and vowed to protect me from Tullius? She didn't even know me then!"

"No, you didn't tell me that."

Ulfric said in a tone of wonder, "Something has drawn us to each other since the night she gave me the dossier. Before that she only pitied me and hoped to make peace, but at that moment when she was kneeling there, something…changed. And now I'm lying here counting down the minutes until she returns."

"Go count them down somewhere else," Galmar demanded in a growl, making Ulfric laugh and rise from the bed. "How long is she staying?"

"As long as she wants. No doubt before long something will drive her onward. She isn't one to stay in any one place for long. She's a restless soul. Maybe once she has accomplished everything she dreams of she will finally settle down."

"With you, eh?"

"I hope not, for her sake," he said as they went to the door. "I told you, I am too old for her. Selfishly, I wish it would be me. I fear I'm not suited to marriage, but she makes me want to try."

Before Ulfric could open the door Galmar put his hand on it, stopping him. He put his hand on his Jarl's shoulder and quietly said, "Look…she's pretty, I don't deny that. And she wants to see justice done. If anyone can pull off pushing back the Thalmor it's her, sure. And you want her on the throne as High Queen, fine. I'd rather it was you, but fine, whatever puts the Empire in its place and lets our people live and worship freely again."

"But?"

"I've…just got a bad feeling." To his credit Ulfric took that seriously, as he always did. Sometimes nothing came of those feelings, but he never knew if it was because they had done something to avert whatever was going to happen, or if it was really just a hunch that amounted to nothing that all people got from time to time. Galmar shook his head and let his hands fall. "It's probably nothing. I'm just not used to seeing you like this. I'm happy for you, and that should be all that matters, if she makes you happy. I'll make sure I treat her with the respect she deserves."

"Or at least as much as you show me, eh?"

Galmar laughed heartily at that, and as they went out into the hall he felt Ulfric's arm go around him. He patted his Jarl on the back, unable to help being touched by the whole thing. Ulfric was happier than he had seen him…well, maybe ever. If the girl could heal some of Ulfric's hurts then by Talos he would be her number one supporter.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: Extra-long chapter, as I felt this sequence of events shouldn't be broken up.**

**Also, warning for mentions of past rape, which might upset some tender souls.**

The sound of a thundering roar made Tullius and Rikke look up from the map, and the General sourly said, "I thought she got rid of the dragons."

"She got rid of Alduin, sir," Rikke corrected. "I thought I explained all that. Sir."

"Yes, yes, a number of them are still alive. Why doesn't she do her job and finish hunting them down?" Rikke didn't get the chance to answer as a resounding boom shook the entire castle from the top down. "What the hell was that!" Tullius shouted. One of the Legionnaires guarding the door came running inside, his dark eyes huge with fear.

He cried breathlessly, "Dragon, sir! On the roof—"

"So shoot it down!" Aldis had a courtyard full of drilling archers out there to deal with the matter, which they should be doing without Tullius having to get involved. Aldis was the one responsible for the safety and security of the city, not Tullius.

"No sir, the Dragonborn…the Dragonborn is up there. She…merciful Akatosh, she rode a dragon here, sir!" Tullius and Rikke looked at each other, and the Legate was biting her lip as if deciding whether to find it amusing or not. Tullius was definitely not amused. "Sir, ma'am…Captain Aldis told the archers to hold their fire—" There was another roar and the building shook again.

Tullius said through clenched teeth, "If she thinks I'm going to go running out there to watch her little show she is sadly mistaken." Rikke opened her mouth to speak and he pointed a finger at her. "And you are not going out there either! That is what she wants, for everyone to see us oohing and aahing over her. It is _not_ going to happen!" Rikke stared at him as if debating whether to obey him, then she nodded curtly. He pointed to the soldier. "Return to your post. Tell Aldis to let her land in the courtyard without harming her pet, and let her in when she comes. If she's expecting anything else she can wait." The young man took off at a run. Once he was gone Tullius said to Rikke, "What the hell is she trying to do? This is not the way to arrive if she wants to treat with the Empire."

Rikke asked rhetorically, "Isn't a dragon the symbol of the Empire, sir?" Tullius' anger banked at that, though it wasn't gone. "That might be her message to us."

"Yes, yes, this supposed neutrality of hers. I'm supposed to believe that after the last month that she's spent in Windhelm, in Ulfric's bed?" That had not at all been welcome news, once it had started trickling out of Eastmarch. The Dragonborn and Ulfric hadn't particularly flaunted it, but they hadn't tried to hide it either. She was having a full-blown affair with a traitor and murderer. She had gone to the Stormcloaks first instead of the Empire.

"That doesn't necessarily mean what you think it does."

"Why not?"

"Because we'd all be dead if it did." Tullius grunted, folding his arms. "Sir, you've said before that Nord ways don't make any sense. Well, this is one of those things. She's made it clear that she doesn't approve of Ulfric's actions and opinions. She doesn't have to, to share his bed." Tullius grimaced as if he found the notion distasteful. Rikke understood it though; Ulfric was a powerful, charismatic man. The Dragonborn was a powerful, beautiful woman. She frankly thought Ulfric was getting the much better end of the deal, on top of keeping his head. It was beyond her what the Dragonborn was getting out of the relationship other than an older man whose life had beat the hell out of him. "I think we should let her have her say, sir. She's here for a reason."

"It had better be a good one."

"I think it would be safe to say it is, sir."

They didn't have long to wait; within a few minutes the outer door opened and the Dragonborn came walking towards them, completely silent. When Rikke swore softly in an admiring tone, Tullius realized the Dragonborn was wearing a crown of dragon teeth…the Jagged Crown. The crown that Rikke had told Tullius months ago they needed to help legitimize Elisif's claim to the throne. The one that Rikke said the Stormcloaks would try to gain for Ulfric, for the same reason. Tullius frankly considered it hideous, barbaric, but he supposed it went well with the dragonscale armor. He noted the girl no longer carried a shield but instead two swords. Very few people double wielded other than Redguards and Dunmer, the technique relying completely on speed and agility, two things that most Nords didn't have in abundance.

He kept his arms folded as he watched her approach, and when she nodded to Rikke first it annoyed the hell out of him. He kept hold of his temper as he said in greeting, "Hello, Dragonborn. I trust no one molested your ride while you were showboating out there."

Bryn replied, "That's a rather ungrateful attitude to take, considering I was showboating for the benefit of the Empire. You know, the government you serve that has a dragon as its symbol? Quite a powerful image, I would say, for everyone to see a real live dragon roaring on the roof of Castle Dour." Rikke flashed Tullius a look that screamed _I told you so!_ Tullius made a sound of acknowledgment. "And before you ask, no, I can't speak in a normal voice anymore. I've given up even trying. The Greybeards couldn't help me do more than moderate it. It was actually worse than this."

"All right," he said slowly, nodding. "All right, Dragonborn, I'll try to take your entrance in the spirit it was intended. So, did you ride into Windhelm on a bear?"

Bryn laughed merrily at that, clapping her hands, and heard a stifled snort from Rikke. "Well, not _into_ Windhelm," she stated with a grin. Rikke barked out a laugh then bit her lip, but Tullius stared at her with a flat expression. He was certainly a tough nut to crack. She had to wonder if he even knew how to laugh. Ulfric laughed easily enough, after all he had been through. How she missed him. They had spent nearly every minute of the last month together, and it had been the happiest month of her life. Ulfric had such incredible depths to him, the capacity for such deep rage and such incredible tenderness. The rage was never directed at her, but she had seen intense flashes of it from time to time.

In many ways he was like Vilkas, both of them the product of terrible trauma in their lives, both having overcome it much better than she believed she ever would have if she had suffered the same. Unlike Vilkas however Ulfric however wasn't afraid to love her unreservedly. He called her his healer. He bared himself completely to her, body and soul, in ways Vilkas never had, without flinching. She couldn't help missing Vilkas still, and still loved him, still hurt over losing him, still wondered constantly how he was doing, but Ulfric's love had moved her to the point of knowing someday she could get past it, and his easy acceptance of her nature had made her relax considerably about it, and so many other things. A month ago she never would have made a joke about riding bears in Windhelm. She supposed that was rather coarse of her, but it had been impossible to resist.

Tullius said dryly, "Right to the point. It doesn't sit well in certain circles that you've taken Ulfric as a lover. In fact some find it a provocation and an affront."

"Who, Elisif? Is she stomping her tiny feet and waving her little fists around in the air?" Tullius' nostrils flared slightly as he blinked, and Bryn stared intently at him and murmured, "Fascinating." His jaw clenched slightly then he glanced at the top of her head. She pulled off the Jagged Crown and tucked it under her arm. "I don't think this would suit her. Frankly it doesn't even suit me. It's really quite ugly, actually." Though impressive, and it did match her armor nicely. Supposedly it held a bit of the power of every High King or Queen who had worn it up to King Borgas, but Bryn hadn't noticed any difference. She thought maybe she might see if she could enchant the thing and get some use out of it, otherwise she was shoving it into a chest somewhere.

"How did you get your hands on it?"

"I've actually been to Korvanjund before, trying to access a word wall, but the way in was blocked by a rock fall. I thought I would stop by there on my way here, and wouldn't you know, a group of Imperial engineers and soldiers had thoughtfully cleared out the debris for me."

"I hope you were equally thoughtful in not bothering those people on your way in."

"They never saw me. Though I'm sure they heard the nasty fight I had to get into to get the Crown away from King Borgas. It seemed he had grown rather attached to it over the centuries."

Rikke whispered in horror, "Mighty Talos!" Tullius gave her a sharp look, and she cleared her throat.

"Yes, Talos is mighty," Bryn stated, fingering the Amulet of Talos that rarely left her neck, as Ulfric's rarely left his. "I don't understand the concern over Legate Rikke's exclamation, General. There are no Thalmor around right now to haul her away and torture her."

"It's a bad habit to get into," he stated, "because sometimes they are around."

"Yes, and I have to wonder if you would just stand there and watch them drag her away. Or do they only drag away farmers and laborers?" Tullius didn't answer, and when Bryn looked at Rikke the Legate was staring at her superior as if waiting for an answer. She went on more quietly, "Rumor has it the remaining Thalmor are holed up in the Embassy, as if they're waiting for something. Reinforcements maybe? Or me?" Tullius grunted, and her voice grew more intent as she said, "Say the word and they're gone, General. All of them. None would get out alive, I assure you. Not between me and Odahviing."

"If you're referring to that overgrown lizard of yours, I thought you were going to dispose of them all. The dragon menace was supposed to cease."

"Hasn't it, for the most part? Alduin is dead and the world will not be ending, and the remaining dragons are behaving rather well for now. Whichever ones don't can still be killed."

"_You_ were supposed to kill them."

"Anyone can kill them. Only I can master them." She moved past him to the map of Skyrim. As she skimmed her gauntleted hand above the flags, slowly moving south, she murmured, "Imagine the sight, General. An entire flight of dragons, coming over the mountains into Cyrodill. Imagine how the Thalmor would absolutely piss themselves. And then, ha!" She brought her fist down on the table, making the flags jump, though none fell. "I jump off Odahviing right into the center of a Thalmor battalion and Shout _STRUN BAH QO_, and the heavens open up and rain lightning down upon them for three straight minutes, extremely powerful and destructive lightning, and all the while I'm laying into them with Dawnbreaker and Chillrend, and once the lightning stops Imperial and/or Nord troops swoop in and mop up, and the dragons ride the perimeter to take out any stragglers. Can you imagine that, General?"

Tullius didn't answer, looking at Bryn thoughtfully, and Rikke whispered, "I can, Dragonborn." Bryn turned her gaze on her, that bizarre and magnificent golden gaze, full of approval, and it was all Rikke could do not to burst into tears or fall to her knees. It was like being in the presence of Tiber Septim reborn, and Talos forgive her but Tiber Septim never had so many dragons at his beck and call.

"I'm no strategist, but fortunately I'm sleeping with a very good one." She glanced at Tullius but he didn't rise to the bait.

"Well Dragonborn," he finally said, "this is all quite an interesting exercise, but I'd like to know exactly why you're here? Now?"

"Just checking in."

"I'm not buying it."

"I spent a month in Windhelm, getting to know one side of the equation. I will be spending the next month here in Solitude doing the same." At that Tullis showed real alarm, and Bryn exploded into hysterical laughter. "Sweet Dibella, no!" she laughed. Rikke let out a guffaw then choked it back again, clearing her throat.

Tullius barked at her, "Legate, you are excused!"

"Yes sir!" she said crisply, and turned on her heel and strode out of the room. She would find out what they talked about later. When she was off duty her time was her own, and she had the feeling the Dragonborn could use a bottle of mead and a woman to talk to. A Nord woman. Tullius was going to mess up this opportunity if he wasn't careful. The last couple months had been an exercise in extreme frustration for Rikke, trying to make Tullius understand how he could make Nord traditions work for him, and the Empire, and not getting very far. Maybe talking one-on-one with the Dragonborn would finally get through to him.

After she was gone Bryn said with resentment, "That was unnecessary. I like her."

"Yes, you both like each other, a bit too much for my taste," he said in aggravation. "No more games, Dragonborn. Tell me what you want."

"I told you, General," she stated, growing angry, and she kept in reined in with an effort. It wasn't as easy as it used to be, before Sovngarde. "I want to wipe out the Thalmor. I just gave you one scenario for how I could do that." She set the helm on the table and said with almost a sneer, "You would let them drag her away, wouldn't you. You would stand there with that stony, impassive expression of yours while she's hauled away screaming." He pursed his lips and she leaned her hands on the table and hissed at him, "Answer me, damn you! Would you let your own people get taken away and tortured, or only mine?"

"My people know better than to worship Talos openly, Rikke's slip notwithstanding."

"The people _should_ be allowed to worship Talos openly."

"We both know that. Everyone knows that. We all know the Thalmor arranged everything this way. Ulfric's capture and torture, his escape, the banning of the Soldier's God, this damn war, all of it. It makes me sick to my stomach how we've had to capitulate to them, but what else should we have done, let them destroy us all?"

"Why did they sign the treaty unless they were afraid they couldn't, to buy time? Why have they left Hammerfell alone?"

Tullius made a cutting motion and said, "Don't think that hasn't been gone over time and again for the last thirty years. But this is what we have now—"

"And I'm telling you what we can do about it, now, right damn now! And you haven't answered my question yet. I want to know if you would let the Thalmor take her away. How would the Empire repay all her years of service? The way they repaid Ulfric, by letting him rot in a Thalmor prison for an entire year? What do you think they had to do to him to break him? What do you think it would take to break you?" Tullius didn't answer, angry and trying not to show it. That he was showing it at all told her how frustrated he was. "I want to talk to the Emperor."

"No. Never."

"What are all the messengers running back and forth about?"

"What messengers?"

Bryn rolled her eyes. "I have a home in Riften. I've seen Imperial couriers come and go."

"That's classified information."

She shook her head and leaned on the table again. "You're really going to do it," she said in disbelief. "You're going to let your complete and utter contempt for Nord ways and customs put us all in chains."

"I do not have complete and utter contempt. I have no contempt at all. I've told Rikke an endless number of times that just because I don't understand a thing doesn't mean I can't respect it."

"You don't respect me. You refuse to let yourself contemplate what I'm capable of."

"On the contrary. And that is why you will never meet the Emperor if I can help it."

Bryn sputtered at him and said, "I have a total lack of interest in his position. I love Skyrim. I've made it my home. There is nothing you could offer me to make me live in the Imperial City again."

"Hm. Interesting."

"What?"

"Not once have you asked me about your family. You haven't asked Legate Rikke either. As far as I know you've made no attempt at all to find out how they're doing."

"Clearly Elenwen has already saved me the trouble, if she knows my childhood nickname. And since we both know you understand Altmeris, you know that I've already accepted that I'll never see them again. I made that choice when I decided to come to Skyrim."

"Just like that. Walk away from the folk who raised you and cut them off."

"The alternative being staying in contact with folk who made me feel like a fat, loudmouthed, grubby little pet cow my entire life." She lifted her chin and said in haughty Altmeris, "Oh Brynni, are you sure you want that second piece of pie? You're already outgrowing your new clothes. Oh do get out of the dirt child; you're starting to look like those potato-grubbing wretches your mother came from. For Auriel's sake girl, must you always laugh so loud? Why are you so loud? Merciful Mara, what man will ever want to marry a half-breed girl like you if you don't learn to stop eating and be quiet?" Tullius looked away from her, frowning slightly, and she went on in Tamrielic, "I love my aunt and grandmother, and they loved me in their fashion. It would upset me if anything happened to them, but I can't go about my business worrying about that. They would be utterly horrified by what I am now. I was horrified by it, until Ulfric."

"Ulfric."

"I'm sorry you didn't get to chop off his head, but you know what, it really is better this way. No martyrs. He doesn't get to be High King, and frankly he doesn't care."

"Because he thinks you're going to get the throne."

"He was fine with that well before we got involved. He loves Skyrim more than he wanted to be King. And you know what? I'm going to tell you this once and only once: he did _not_ murder Torygg. Torygg was free to refuse the challenge, but he accepted and faced him honorably. Torygg told me so."

"Ah yes, this trip to…wherever it is you people go when you die."

"Again with the contempt."

"Fine, Sovngarde."

"You don't believe I went there? I just imagined the whole thing?" Bryn shook her head and said in confusion, "How do you go about your life in such a dry, barren fashion? Is there no room for the fantastic? All black and white, with no shades of gray, and Divines forbid, no color? I suppose the statue of Akatosh in the Temple of the One is just a nice sculpture to you. Why were you sent here, Tullius? Who requested to have you of all people stationed in a place so steeped in emotion and spectacle?"

"I was sent here by the Emperor himself, for the very reasons you mentioned, because I _don't_ let myself get caught up in emotion and spectacle," he stated calmly. "You've seen how Rikke reacts to you. She's a Nord first and a Legionnaire a close second. Nords are too damn emotional. Ulfric let his emotions get us all into this mess."

"No, the Emperor's lack of emotion got us into this mess. Nord emotion will get us out of it, because we're all very, very pissed off. I'm trying to get us to stop being pissed off at each other and turn it toward the Thalmor." She moved close to him and pleaded with soft intensity, "Please, put me to use. I came here to you hoping you would see what I can do and how it could make the difference. You will never, ever come across as asset like me ever again. I'm the last Dragonborn. If I'm not used against the Thalmor in a coordinated fashion with the Imperial Legion and Nord forces then humanity will have an eternity to curse your name, and Titus Mede II's, if they won't already. I can hurt the Thalmor on my own, keep them busy and off everyone else's backs, but I can't completely destroy them alone. I'm only one person."

Tullius gazed up into those eyes of molten gold, not particularly happy about having to do it or how close she was standing. She smelled of a nose-wrinkling combination of lavender and sulfur he found distasteful, no matter how beautiful she was. Her beauty was an unearthly one and he had an utter lack of attraction to her. Maybe it was because she didn't seem human. She never had to him, and now even less so. Of course Ulfric would find a creature like her to his liking, a legend come to life, the female embodiment of his beloved Talos. After nearly half a minute he asked, "So Ulfric is able to ignore the half-Altmer thing?"

Surprised, Bryn laughed shortly. "He told me that maybe loving a half-Elven woman was the only thing that could heal his wounds. He says I'm his redemption." Tullius looked deeply troubled by that for some reason. "Look," she said softly, "I know his faults. I am not naïve or blinded by love. He has done terrible things, but not all of the things he is accused of, and many of the things he has done have been exaggerated. I spent my time with him and his people looking for reasons to walk away. I knew going to him would make me look like a fool or a collaborator in your eyes. I took that chance because while I find you a bore, you are a very practical man."

"My, I'm flattered."

"I went to Ulfric because I knew he was the one person in Tamriel who could help me accept what I am now. In his healing my hurts, and me healing his, I'm trying to heal Skyrim. I am something sacred to him. Do you hold anything at all sacred, I wonder?" Tullius didn't answer. She resisted the urge to ask him about Elisif. They were making progress and she wasn't going to cause a setback. Bryn slid her pack off her back and reached inside, and to his credit Tullius waited silently for her to do whatever it was she was doing. She took out two small leather-bound booklets and handed them to Tullius. "Please read these. They're short, so it will only take a minute. I found them in the Thalmor Embassy." It was easy enough to assume he could read Altmeris as well as he could understand the spoken language.

"All right," he said warily. He opened the first, seeing it was a dossier on Esbern, the elderly Blade who had made such an impassioned speech at the peace conference. It was only mildly interesting, though of course unfortunate. He read the second on his associate Delphine, then when he was done he frowned and set them both on the table, open to the first pages. He stared at the words there then lifted his head and looked across the room at nothing in particular.

"There was a third dossier. On Ulfric. It referred to the 'First War' as well, and how he was tortured and allowed to escape with the intent of destabilizing Skyrim, and how he has been manipulated since then into accomplishing that. An uncooperative asset, they called him. I spent a year reading and re-reading that dossier, carried it all over Skyrim, until I had it memorized. I gave it to Ulfric, and that was the beginning of the end of the Stormcloak Rebellion."

"What did it say?" The question came out in almost a croak, and he cleared his throat and went to pour a goblet of water, drinking it down quickly.

"It was a bit longer, but the last paragraph was the one I found most relevant: 'As long as the civil war proceeds in its current indecisive fashion, we should remain hands-off. The incident at Helgen is an example where an exception had to be made; obviously Ulfric's death would have dramatically increased the chance of an Imperial victory and thus harmed our overall position in Skyrim. A Stormcloak victory is also to be avoided, however, so even indirect aid to the Stormcloaks must be carefully managed.'"

"Son of a bitch," Tullius whispered.

"So you didn't know all this."

"I've always known they were playing us. We all have. We just…" He laughed bitterly and said, "I have to wonder, just what did Elenwen plan to do if Ulfric went to the block? What diversion did she have up her sleeve to keep him from being executed?" Elenwen had tried to talk him into sending Ulfric to the Imperial City for execution, all the way up until the cart was rumbling into Helgen, probably to give her more time to find a covert way of setting him free. Tullius had said no but had never guessed she would be the one to try to do so, fearing a Stormcloak rescue instead. And if the Thalmor wanted to avoid a Stormcloak victory, that meant that they still feared a unified Skyrim, and the Nords.

"What are the Thalmor doing inside the Embassy?" Bryn asked quietly.

"I've got no goddamn idea." He poured a second goblet of water then refilled his own, bringing one to her. "It isn't mead, sorry."

"I'm not much of a drinker by Nord standards. Thanks." She sipped the water then asked, "Are you sure they're even still there?"

"My scouts haven't seen anyone coming or going in weeks."

"Even out the back way?"

Tullius nearly spit out his water. "What back way!"

"The way I got out when I was there. A trap door in the torture chamber that drops down into a smelly troll cave. I killed the troll. All right then, you didn't know about the back way," she said into her cup. She swallowed and said, "You might want to check and see if anyone is home."

"Lights have gone on and off and someone is moving around inside the buildings at night."

"Probably that skooma-addled cook of theirs putting on a show. It would be extremely easy for the remaining Thalmor to slip out the back through the cave then out to the coast, all within a night. I'm sorry, but I think they're gone." Tullius set down his goblet on the map table with a clank, his face flushed. "I could go check it out if you'd like. They would never see me, if anyone is there to do so." Tullis rubbed his face then blew out a long breath and began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back. She quietly stated, "You want to know why I came here, now. I've spent the last month watching Ulfric trying to redeem himself in my eyes. I've seen him struggling to face up to everything he has done, trying hard to re-evaluate his stance on many things. He's still trying, but he has convinced me that I did the right thing in letting him live. As he told me the day I invited him to the peace conference, he and his allies still hold half of Skyrim despite all your best efforts. We need someone like that, and we need his people. I am convinced Ulfric is worth my time and effort. I came here hoping you could convince me that the Empire is as well." Tullius grunted, acknowledging her words, though he still seemed like he was wresting internally with something. Bryn watched him for a while, wondering what he was struggling with. It was as if he was trying to make a decision, weighing something tremendous, and it was more than if anyone was left at the Embassy. She stayed silent, letting him do his thinking without her interference, hard as that was.

Tullius continued pacing as he finally asked her, "You really think you can make a difference? In this Second War it seems we're doomed to?"

Relieved, she stated, "Yes sir, I most definitely do. If you had ever seen me fight, or seen the _thu'um_, so would you."

"You think the dragons will follow you?"

"Odahviing will. A few others might. They're torn right now, between following me or the Way of the Voice like the Greybeards, or simply going their own way. Frankly Odahviing's value to me would be more as transportation, getting me in and out of a battle. That Storm Call Shout I told you about has a serious down side: I can't Shout again for ten minutes after I use it. It takes everything I have." She put her hands on the pommels of her swords and went on, "The Thalmor have given up on Skyrim. They knew it was a lost cause when the peace conference succeeded. They've tried to kill me multiple times with no success. They know I could unite Skyrim and end the civil war. It's all but ended now, as long as neither Elisif nor Ulfric end up on the throne."

"I promised her she would be High Queen."

Bryn sighed at the disappointment in his voice, and was flattered that he was allowing her to hear it. She gently said, "I'm sorry I was a bit harsh with her at the conference. She's a good person from what I can tell, a nice girl, and I do think she has the potential to be a good Jarl, with more experience. But for now she looks to you too much, and you shelter her too much, and Falk is left doing all the work. I sympathize, believe me. I was a fragile, whiny mess when I came to Skyrim. It was one thing after another for months on end and I don't know how many times I nearly crawled into a cave somewhere to lie down and die just to get it over with. I'm only what I am today because of Balgruuf and the Companions, and my housecarl Lydia. What if Elisif did become High Queen? Are you always going to be standing behind her throne telling her what to do? Will you always be here in Skyrim?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I thought about retiring before I was assigned here. Now I have to wonder if I will ever be able to." His brow furrowed and he said, "I'll be damned if I retire up here and spend the rest of my life freezing my ass off."

"You might want to try putting on some pants." Tullius laughed at that, the first full laugh she had heard out of him, and it turned a rather stern looking man into something halfway attractive. Most non-Nord Legionnaires in Skyrim did wear leather leggings and warmer attire outdoors, but it was rather warm in here with all the braziers going. "So, General… tell me what you want me to do. I'm at your disposal."

His smile quickly faded, and he closed his eyes for a long moment then quietly said, "All right. Okay." He nodded slowly and stopped pacing to face her. "I sent couriers to the Imperial City once it became apparent that Ulfric was serious about peace. I have to admit I was wrong and he's a man of his word, whatever else he might be. We're all sick of this war. Trade between provinces is at a standstill, women are afraid to have children, farmers are scared to plant more crops than they need to feed their families, neighbors are eyeing each other in paranoia wondering if they're going to get turned in for worshipping in the privacy of their own homes. This has to end. If the price is Ulfric keeping his head, fine. He'll keep his head and get a pardon from the Emperor, and I'll do what I have to, to put you on the throne and start putting this Empire back together."

Bryn's eyebrows rose in surprise as she felt a thrill of excitement go through her. "All right then. Let's do this."

"The Emperor himself wants you on the throne, if you're everything he's hoping you are, however he left it up to me to judge your worth and whether that's truly the case. I've decided it is, today." She looked even more shocked at that, and he added, "You and I are the only two people in Skyrim who know this, Dragonborn."

"You have my word that I'll keep it that way."

"It wouldn't go over well with many people to know you have the Emperor's backing, or even mine. When the Moot meets, the Jarls will have to decide amongst themselves whether they want you as High Queen. I think it's a foregone conclusion, frankly. Ulfric will tell his supporters how to vote and they'll do it. Balgruuf obviously favors you. Idgrod of Morthal seems to as well. Maven hates your guts but will do what she's told if she wants to maintain her lucrative ties to the Empire."

Bryn resisted the urge to complain about Maven, knowing it would get her nowhere. "And Elisif?"

"Elisif is still very upset about the loss of her husband. She's…well, I wouldn't say fixated, but she spends more time than she should thinking about ways to avenge herself on Ulfric. She was extremely distressed when she found out you had…taken up with him." Elisif felt betrayed by someone she had trusted and relied on becoming the lover of the man who had killed her husband. Falk Firebeard had tried to impress on her that one had nothing to do with the other; he still thought Ulfric a criminal, but the Dragonborn's honor shouldn't be stained by association. Falk was a strong supporter of the Dragonborn, a friend even, and saw things with the clarity Elisif didn't.

"Do you think there's any way I can fix things with her?"

"Honestly, I'm not so sure. You're not likely to get her vote no matter what you do, as long as you're with Ulfric."

"It isn't her vote I'm worried about. It's finding out someday that she felt driven to hire someone to stick a knife in Ulfric's back." That Tullius didn't protest it told Bryn enough, and she said, "If she feels that way, then she should understand why Ulfric felt driven to do what he did."

"She won't understand. She won't let herself."

"And you wanted to put a mentally unstable woman on the throne?"

Tullius stated firmly, "Elisif is _not_ mentally unstable. She's a grieving widow. It's been well over a year but sometimes that doesn't matter." He had never married himself, but he had seen enough grief over his career to know what it sometimes did to people.

"Well maybe she needs something or someone to take her mind off it."

Seeing her pointed look, he stated in annoyance, "Not amusing, Dragonborn."

"I'm not joking. I am the Agent of Mara, you know." At least Mara had finally answered her prayers with as good a compromise as she could ask for. Just knowing Ulfric was willing to be a husband to her and father her children someday was enough for now. She supposed Dinya had been right in that no one could truly know the ways that Mara worked until it was done. Mara had given her Ulfric to heal her heart, and Mara had given her to Ulfric to heal his soul. Better late than never.

"This discussion is over," he demanded. "I'd like you to head up to the Embassy and see what you can find out. I'm going to send a runner with you to pull back my people. If the Thalmor are still in there go ahead and let the Praefect in charge know where the back door is so she can set watch on it. If they're gone, get up on that dragon of yours and see if you can find where they went. There are a hundred coves along Haafingar's coastline they could have hidden a ship in without us knowing it."

"And if I find them?"

"Take them all out and bring me the heads. The Emperor has a use for them."

Bryn grinned, her eyes shining. "Tit for tat, eh?"

"I'm glad you're following." If the Thalmor had thought it entertaining to dump the heads of a hundred Blades in front of the Emperor, they shouldn't get too upset about a couple dozen Justiciar heads getting dumped right back. The heads arriving at the Imperial City would be Tullius' affirmation to the Emperor that the Dragonborn had been found worthy of his faith. "How are you going to get onto a ship? Or for that matter land in the middle of a battalion of Elves without getting your pet killed?"

"He isn't a pet, General. He's an ally." Tullius grunted, not caring. "I'll do it the same way I got down off the roof of the castle. _FEIM ZII GRON!_"

"Bloody hell!" Tullius gasped. The Dragonborn had gone transparent right before his eyes, the Shout accompanied by a clap of thunder.

"Go ahead, hit me." He didn't hesitate, swinging at her shoulder, and his fist passed through her.

"I'll be damned!" he whispered in amazement. And he was not easily amazed.

"I can fall from heights that would otherwise seriously injure or kill me when I use this. Odahviing can drop me from a hundred feet and I'll come down light as a feather. I'll only need to defend myself for thirty seconds or so after it wears off to be able to Shout again and bring down the storm."

"Extraordinary." And he meant it.

"It was Ulfric's idea."

"Huh. Well, at this rate he just might redeem his crimes in another century or two."

"Maybe," she said without concern. He would have to do better than that to rile her. She picked up her pack and she became solid again. As she settled her gear she asked Tullius, "So, let's say I do become High Queen. Where am I going to hold court?"

"The King or Queen has always held court in the Blue Palace."

"Not always. Windhelm, Winterhold and Whiterun have been home to the King or Queen in the past. Obviously those are all out of the question, and I am not about to kick Elisif out of her home or her position."

"We'll work all that out later." He honestly wasn't sure how they were going to manage that. Elisif had to at least stay Jarl of Haafingar. He had to leave her that much, and the people of her hold loved her.

"How about I kill Maven and take Riften? I like it there."

"Goodbye, Dragonborn." Bryn laughed and strode out of the room, and he called, "You left your hat."

"Whoops."

Tullius tossed it to her, and she put it on her head as she walked out. He watched her go, unable to help being impressed. For the first time in the year and a half he had been in Skyrim he felt a bit of hope, and it was instinctive to push it back down and not let it flourish. _One thing at a time, old man_ he told himself. Still, he couldn't help feeling positive. Maybe, just maybe, he would actually live long enough to retire.

* * *

_You've got to be kidding!_ Bryn thought with a touch of panic as she looked at the ship riding on the waves below. The Thalmor had set out from a cove sometime last night and their sails were unfurled, taking them out of the Sea of Ghosts toward the Padomaic Ocean. It had seemed a good idea when she and Tullius were discussing it, but now the thought of falling onto the ship turned her insides to jelly. She wasn't a particularly strong swimmer if she missed, and her armor would make it almost impossible not to drown. She knew a waterbreathing spell but didn't have the skill to cast it. It made her wish she had brought Volsung; wearing that, if nothing else she would just sink to the bottom and start the long, cold walk back to shore. It wasn't far off, but far enough. She saw one of the glass-armored Altmer below glance up then yell in alarm and point, and she sighed and patted Odahviing's neck.

"Let me burn them, _briinah,_" he suggested. He could feel _YOL TOOR SHUL_ bubbling inside him at the thought of it. The ship would look lovely in flames, bobbing on the gray waves, reflecting off the ocean's surface.

"I need the heads."

"They will still have heads."

"Yes, but they need to be recognizable, _zeymahi_. Not burnt to a crisp."

The dragon grunted. "As you wish. Call me when you are finished."

Bryn bit back a startled scream as he suddenly dove, and she barely had time to shout _FEIM ZII_ before he rolled and dumped her off his back as he passed over the ship. Elves shouted and scattered as she hit the deck, undamaged but completely rattled, cursing the damn dragon for being so thoughtless. It probably hadn't even occurred to him that what he had done would scare the living hell out of her, but then even if it had he probably wouldn't care. She didn't have time to feel sorry for herself long as she was descended upon by the Elves on deck. At least she knew the ethereal Shout would work the way she wanted it to, though clearly she needed to practice her landing.

She pulled out her swords with a yell and began defending herself, waiting for the strength of her Voice to return. It didn't take long, and she Shouted _"STRUN BAH QO!"_ making the Thalmor fall back and gasp. When the first got hit by lighting several broke and ran for the cabin door. The others redoubled their efforts to take her down. Bryn was grateful that wind wasn't part of the Shout; she had never been on anything more than a rowboat on Lake Rumare and did not have sea legs, though thankfully she didn't seem to get seasick.

Storm Call worked fantastically, leaving the Thalmor unable to fight well, or for any length of time, and within minutes she had the deck cleared. She spent the time waiting for her _thu'um_ to regain strength collecting heads, lopping them off the bodies and putting them in a large burlap sack she had brought for the purpose. She removed the helms, worried they would cut holes in the bag. She cinched up the sack and tied it to a mast to keep it secure then glanced up at the gloomy sky to see Odahviing gliding in lazy circles overhead. She didn't bother to loot the bodies; the Thalmor she had fought had always had a surprising lack of coin and treasure on them and she wasn't going to waste the time.

Once Bryn's Voice was ready, she pulled out Dawnbreaker and Chillrend again and walked silently to the cabin door, finding it locked. It seemed typically cold-blooded of the Elves to lock out their comrades to save their own skins. She considered picking the lock but was sure they were waiting for that. _"FUS RO DAH!"_ The wooden door blasted inward, along with part of the walls on either side. She saw a Thalmor wizard lying on the ground and ran at him, running him through with both swords before he could regain his feet.

The narrow passageways of the ship made her job disappointingly easy, and by time she made it to the Captain's Quarters the ship had grown silent other than the creak of wood and the slap of water on the hull. "Oh Elenwen…" she called in Altmeris. "Come out, come out wherever you are…" She knocked on the door then rattled the locked handle.

"I'm open to negotiation!"

Bryn laughed at the terrified offer then Shouted _"FUS RO DAH!"_ at the door, blowing it inward. She found Elenwen cowering behind a large wooden desk, secured to the floor as all the furniture was. "No negotiations!" she thundered. "No compromises!"

"Just kill me and be done with it!"

"Oh no, I have much more exciting plans for you." Elenwen tried to lunge to her feet, her hands beginning to glow with purple lightning, but Bryn punched her, making her cry out and fall down. "Doesn't feel good, does it," Bryn said, suddenly furious. She wondered how many times Elenwen had stood over Ulfric like this.

"Ah, so that's it, is it? Plan to deliver me to your barbarian lover so he can have as much fun with me as I did with him?" She smiled up at Bryn, satisfied to see her eyes wide with rage. "Those Nords, they're certainly…well built, aren't they?" The girl's nostrils flared as she flushed, her right hand flexing as if she was resisting grabbing the Blade of Woe on her belt. "Of course I myself would never sully my superiorly bred flesh with Man meat, but others are not so picky, especially those beast folk. Ulfric got a taste of everything life has to offer. It never ceases to amaze me how little control Men have. And I could swear when he was being taken by the men that his groans were ones of pleasure, though of course it was hard to tell through the gag. Well, there's always one dependable way to tell he's enjoying it, isn't there, and at times it was most certainly there."

Bryn blinked, feeling a dizzying surge of pure fury go through her, unable to help picturing it and how helpless and dirty it must have made Ulfric feel. The words were calculated though, intended to get Bryn to kill Elenwen, which she had no intention of doing. She said through gritted teeth, "Unluckily for you, that isn't going to work. But feel free to keep talking. Every word out of your mouth guarantees a thousand more Elven dead."

"There's no way you can pull it off, you little whore," Elenwen hissed. "Go ahead and let these filthy, smelly animals crown you Queen. It makes no difference in the end. Man will live with an Elven boot on his neck forever, as is the natural order of things, until we can escape this mortal coil."

"If the Divines thought so I would not exist, and you lost any chance of unmaking Mundus the second I destroyed Alduin." She took off her pack and got out the shackles she had brought just for the Altmer sorceress. "What does it say about who is the barbarian that Nords would never dream of doing what you had done to Ulfric? Be glad of that, or you would soon be enjoying the attentions of many, many filthy, smelly, well-built Nords, and whatever else I could round up." Elenwen tensed as if to make a break for it, and Bryn shouted, _"FO!"_ The Altmer woman cried out and fell to her hands and knees, covered in frost, moving stiffly as she tried to stand, but Bryn grabbed her by the hair and forced her to the floor. She pulled her hands back and secured them tightly then began looking through the desk and chest for anything valuable or informative. She found a tidy sum of gold and gems and put those in her pack, unable to help continuing to pad her finances. It certainly never hurt. In a deep drawer of the desk she also found dozens of leather-bound dossiers, and it made her despair when she realized there was no way she could take them all, plus the heads and Elenwen. She didn't really have time to sort through them either; without someone at the helm the ship could very well wreck against the shoreline, taking her with it.

Unable to tolerate the thought of leaving them behind, sure they had a purpose and had come from the Embassy, Bryn piled them all onto the blanket on the bed then tied the corners together to form a sack. Odahviing could carry it by a foot if necessary. She slung the sack over her shoulder then nudged Elenwen with her foot. "Get up. If you cooperate I won't let Ulfric beat you before he takes your head off."

"The beast won't be able to help himself," Elenwen stated hatefully. "You'll see. You've thrown in your lot with animals."

"And yet wild animals don't rape and torture."

"They're lower than animals, these Men. They think themselves cultured, noble. What a joke!"

Bryn listened to Elenwen rant on in that vein in her obnoxious voice as she sighed and set the sack onto the floor then went to the bed and cut a strip of cloth from the fine linen sheet. She wasn't about to listen to this all the way to Windhelm. She stuffed the gag in Elenwen's mouth and tied it securely, and the woman put up a surprising lack of fuss about it. Bryn supposed she thought she was being dignified, or was going to make Bryn complacent and give her an opportunity to escape, or take her own life. There was absolutely no chance of either happening.

Once they reached the deck Elenwen surged forward, probably hoping to throw herself off the ship into the frigid ocean. Bryn caught her by the collar and yanked her back, making her choke, then knocked her feet out from under her and grabbed some nearby rigging to tie around her feet. She rolled her onto her back and said, "Stupid move. Do you really think drowning is preferable to a quick beheading?" Elenwen's golden eyes glared back hatefully, and Bryn shook her head and said, "You Thalmor brought this on yourselves. There was no—" She cut herself off and shook her head again. "No. Waste of time." There was no point trying to convince someone who was going to be dead before the end of the day. She lifted her head to the sky, seeing the dragon still circling far overhead, and she shouted, _"OD AH VIING!"_

Elenwen shuddered at the sound, and when the dragon began to dive her eyes widened in terror. Bryn smiled at her and said, "Just imagine half a dozen or so of those, coming down to fry and freeze your comrades. I imagine they will be just as terrified as you are." Odahviing flapped his wings as he came down carefully onto the ship, but it still rocked violently under his weight, making Elenwen scream beneath the gag. Bryn had to admit she hadn't really considered how she was going to get back off the ship, which was not made to have creatures weighing many tons landing on the deck.

"That _fahliil_ still has its head," Odahviing commented, craning his neck to look at the bound Elf, who stared back shivering. He lowered his nose to her and breathed deeply, hearing her whimper. He could smell her _maar_, her terror. It smelled delicious.

"She won't for long. I'm taking her to the _kodaav bronjun_. She caused him great harm in the past, so I will let him kill her. _Nahkriin_."

"_Nahkriin_," he said in agreement. He shifted his weight and the ship rocked. "Let us go, Dovahkiin. I do not like this _veysun_. It is no place for a _dovah_."

"It is a place for only the _dilon_ now. A ghost ship on the Sea of Ghosts."

"Hmm, fitting."

It took some doing, and a great deal of grumbling on Odahviing's part, but they eventually got Elenwen secured on the dragon's neck with Bryn behind, and as he lifted off Odahviing grasped a sack in each foot. "_Krosis, zeymah_," she said with regret. "You are not a beast of burden." Elenwen screamed in fright as they took to the air, making the dragon laugh.

"Her terror is all the thanks I need."

Bryn held Elenwen by her arms and said in her ear, "What's wrong, high and mighty mer? Are you afraid of seeing the world as only a dragon can? Dragons are the children of Akatosh, of Auriel, and I am Dragonborn. What does your great god Auriel think of what the Thalmor have done, that he brought about my birth?" Elenwen didn't answer, shaking uncontrollably. Bryn patted Odahviing's neck and said, "You can burn the ship now, if you'd like."

"A poor compromise, but I will take it," he stated.

Bryn laughed as Elenwen let out a muffled shriek as they circled around then dove toward the ship, and when Odahviing roared fire at the ship as Bryn shouted _"YOL TOOR SHUL!_" she felt the sorceress go limp. "That is for Ulfric," she muttered, though Elenwen wasn't conscious to hear it.

The Altmer woman came to again just as Odahviing was circling down to land in the courtyard of Castle Dour, and the soldiers below nearly opened fire before Captain Aldis' sharp eyes saw the Dragonborn and ordered them to hold. Elenwen screamed again as the ground came at them, making Bryn laugh unrepentantly. She knew she was being cruel, but such was a _dovah's_ nature at times, and the mer had asked for it. Odahviing dropped the sacks then moved back to land. "These sacks are for General Tullius only," Bryn called out, her voice echoing off the walls of the courtyard. "I can't leave until they're in his hands."

Aldis nodded and said, "Ah, yeah. Sure, Dragonborn." He could see that one sack was oozing blood. He could also see very clearly the form of Elenwen in front of Bryn. The soldiers were as far back from the dragon as they could get. He had to admit it was a magnificent creature, and the Dragonborn struck an awe-inspiring figure up there.

Tullius came running out of the castle with Legate Rikke on his heels, both of them coming to a sharp stop right outside the door. It took a few moments for him to come to grips with what he was seeing. He couldn't help whispering, "Merciful Akatosh!" He wasn't going to forget this moment as long as he lived. The dragon lifted its head and roared, spreading its wings, and when the Dragonborn's Shout of _"FUS RO DAH!"_ rang out into the sky in answer he felt an almost overwhelming urge to kneel. He knelt only to the Emperor, but the Emperor didn't inspire like this. No one else could. It made the need to keep the Dragonborn focused on Skyrim all the more apparent, and it made him uncomfortably wonder if maybe the Empire would be better off with another Dragonborn on the Imperial throne. Someone whom half the populace of the Empire didn't feel had let them down.

"These sacks are for you, General," Bryn called.

"Yes, ah, thank you Dragonborn," he replied, his voice nearly cracking. "I trust you didn't run into any trouble?"

"It was dicey getting on and off the ship, but as you can see the mission was successful. Odahviing left it in flames on the Sea of Ghosts. The Thalmor will trouble Skyrim no more." She saw the soldiers whispering to each other, and many of the Nord Legionnaires were either in tears or nearly so. Rikke certainly was. Bryn patted Elenwen on the head and said, "You can guess what's in one of the sacks. I'll get you this one when I'm done with it. Clean and quick, I assure you."

"Yes, please." He didn't bother protesting that it was highly improper to deliver the First Ambassador to Ulfric for beheading. The Dragonborn was going to do whatever she wanted to, and she wouldn't allow Ulfric to torture or abuse Elenwen, no matter how the witch deserved it. He gazed into Elenwen's eyes and she looked back with obvious terror, her eyes pleading with him to save her. He slowly shook his head at her and she screamed, then Bryn laughed and patted the dragon's neck and the beast took off, with the Altmer woman shrieking all the way. Tullius glanced at Rikke and she was gazing at the sky with tears running down her face, and they sure as hell weren't for Elenwen. He walked away to give her some privacy, wondering what it was like to feel things the way a Nord did, though he was glad he didn't. He wasn't sure how they got anything done up here. They were all either arguing, singing, fighting, drinking, or fucking, some of those things at the same time. It was exhausting to contemplate.

Aldis met him at the sacks, saying, "The Dragonborn said these were for your hands and eyes only, sir." Tullius nodded, gazing thoughtfully at the bloody sack. "So…"

"So it begins, Captain. These are Thalmor heads that will be sent to the Imperial City, for our Emperor." It was no use at this point trying to keep it a secret, not with an entrance like that.

"Aye sir. I'll get them boxed up with some ice wraith teeth." It sent a wave of relief and fear through him, but mostly immense satisfaction. He could swear he had seen that Elenwen had pissed herself at some point and wondered if the dragon knew. "Damn amazing sight, eh General?"

"Oh yes, there's no denying that." It made him wish he had listened more closely to Rikke during the last year. When he thought of what they could have done all this time with her in their ranks! And now she was in Ulfric's bed. Well, if the girl became High Queen and the truce became a real, permanent peace, they would need those former Stormcloaks. "So, Captain…there's talk there might be a Moot soon to choose a new High King or Queen of Skyrim."

"I'm thinking Queen, sir."

"So it would seem." And he would have to be the one to break it to Elisif.

"And Ulfric isn't going to the block?"

"I'm afraid not. We need his troops to pull this off. It's going to be the Dragonborn's job to get this province put back together. We can't have former Stormcloaks and Imperial soldiers getting into fisticuffs over past resentments. Ulfric's men idolize the Dragonborn, and as distasteful as I find it, her relationship with him is part of that. Once Brynhilde is High Queen I'm going to tactfully suggest to her that the Stormcloak camps be disbanded and the soldiers dispersed back to their respective hometowns and holds, sans Stormcloak gear. I will have Rikke pull our people back here at the same time."

"And this ship the Dragonborn was talking about?"

"The Thalmor were making a run for it. The Embassy had a back door we didn't know about. They obviously made it to the coast and were sailing for Alinor."

"Ah shit. Well then we've got time."

"A little bit, yes. Eventually the Dominion is going to wonder why they haven't heard anything from Skyrim lately other than that the war is over and there's a new Queen. They'll put two and two together and then we're in for it."

As Tullius waved over a couple Legionnaires to deal with the bloody sack, Aldis said, "Say, I'm not the only one who saw that Elenwen had, ah…"

"No, I saw it too. And so will Ulfric." He snorted and said in a wry tone, "You know, between you and me, this might be the one and only time I'm going to envy the man."

* * *

"Jarl Ulfric! My lord!"

"What is it, boy? Can't you see we're getting ready to eat?" Galmar barked at the young guard, then the roar of a dragon and an earth-shaking thud were heard, making the men leap from the table. "Shit, dragon attack?"

"No sir," he said breathlessly. "It's the Dragonborn sir, and…oh Great Divines…" Ulfric started for the doors, Galmar, Jorleif and Yrsarald following. "My lord, she has an Elf woman with her! A goldskin, sir! Thalmor by the looks of it!"

Ulfric's steps faltered for a moment, and Galmar said, "All right lad, off with you." The boy scampered back out the front doors, not a day over seventeen, eager but green as they came. Galmar clapped Ulfric on the shoulder as they continued to the doors and murmured, "Your lady love brought you a gift, eh?"

"Yes, the best possible one I can think of," Ulfric replied, trying to keep his voice steady. He fingered the haft of his war axe, his heart hammering. Bryn had sworn she would bring him Elenwen's head but had been clear that she wouldn't bring the witch alive. But then that had been before Bryn loved him, before she realized the extent of what Elenwen and her lackeys had done to him. Ah, how he was going to savor this moment, for as long as he lived!

As they came out the front doors they saw the red dragon lifting into the sky, and Yrsarald whispered, "Holy fuck!"

"Indeed," Ulfric muttered, giving the dragon only a brief glance. It was the captive kneeling at Bryn's feet near the brazier, bound and gagged, that drew the bulk of his attention. Bryn gave him only a small, quick smile; she understood just what this moment meant to him, understood the gravity of it. He noted with a touch of amusement that she was wearing the Jagged Crown; she must have detoured on her way to Solitude last week. He could see townsfolk at the edge of the courtyard, whispering excitedly amongst themselves, or fearfully perhaps. The Dragonborn's entry had been masterfully done, intended to engender awe, and it most certainly had.

Bryn raised her voice and stated, "Jarl Ulfric, I am happy to announce that this is the last living Thalmor in Skyrim." Galmar barked out a laugh of triumph, and there were gasps and scattered cheers among the townsfolk. She heard a moan of fear from Elenwen, and she murmured to her in Altmeris, "Do not be afraid, highborn. It will be over soon, and I will not let anyone abuse you." She couldn't help feeling a kernel of pity for the Altmer woman and the absolute terror she must be feeling. It was a very tiny kernel, to be sure.

"Excellent work, Dragonborn," Galmar said in satisfaction, coming over to look down at the sorceress alongside Ulfric.

"Thank you, Galmar. It's been a busy day."

"You can tell us tonight over dinner and a mug of mead."

Ulfric squatted down and took a handful of Elenwen's hair, feeling a wave of nausea at the texture of it, so much like Bryn's, and roughly pulled her head up to look her in the face. Elenwen stared back, shivering, her eyes rimmed with red and snot caked around her nose, a fresh bruise on her cheek. "Well now," Ulfric murmured, "isn't this what they call the boot being on the other foot? Did my lady dragon frighten you? I smell piss, Elenwen." She grimaced then squeezed her eyes shut, fresh tears leaking out. "Ah, tears. So you are capable of shedding them. Well, you showed no sympathy while I was drowning in mine, so expect no sympathy from me now." He resisted the urge to spit in her face or start beating her, overwhelming as it was. Gods, but it was hard not to. He let go of her and climbed to his feet, and Bryn was gazing at him with an expression of controlled grief, trying not to show it. Divines only knew what Elenwen had told her. It suddenly occurred to him that whatever the witch had told her might be the reason she had delivered Elenwen here to him alive.

Galmar called out, "Someone bring a block!" The guards ran to haul over one of the stone blocks nearby. He murmured to Ulfric, "There are children here."

Ulfric nodded and looked at the crowd, which had pressed in as more people tried to see what was going on. He raised his voice and said to them, "Those of you with young ones, take them home. This is nothing they need to see."

Somewhere to the right Grimvar Cruel-Sea yelled, "No fair, I want to watch!" His Dunmer nanny took him firmly by the arm and dragged him off, the boy complaining the entire way.

The crowd was barely thirty feet away by time the guards were able to haul over a block, placing it in front of Elenwen. Bryn leaned down and pushed Elenwen onto the block, hearing a whimper of fear from her, and as she brushed the corn silk hair away from the Elf's neck she said in Altmeris, "Don't be afraid. He will make it quick, and if the Altmer afterlife is anything like Sovngarde, you have nothing to fear." As she stood she said more loudly in the human tongue, "Say hello to my father for me." The folk here needed reminding that Bryn herself was half Altmer. She could see the situation degenerating into something ugly, and she had no intention of allowing it.

Ulfric pulled out his axe, feeling sweat trickling down his back. How he had longed for this day. That Bryn had done this for him, that she had created such a potent example here, meant everything to him. He said to Elenwen, "This does not even begin to make up for what you have done, wretch. We will not rest until the Thalmor and the Dominion are pushed all the way back to Alinor and Valenwood."

Bryn added, "And you had better hope I stop there." She put her foot on Elenwen's back to hold her in place, feeling another twinge of pity. For all the people she had killed, this was different. As Ulfric's axe came down it sent a shiver of old dread through her to think this was what had nearly happened to her. She had been seconds away from her own head rolling away, back in Helgen. Droplets of blood sprayed her armor, but it wasn't the first or last it would see. She would be soaked in Altmer and Bosmer blood before it was all over.

A roar went up from the crowd, and Ulfric shouted to the sky, "This was for you, mighty Talos! This was for all who have died simply for uttering your name! Elves dictate the fates of Men no more!" Another cheer went up, and when Ulfric glanced at Bryn she was scanning the crowd intently, no doubt waiting for things to get out of hand. He could see a cluster of Dunmer off to the left, looking terrified, probably wishing they had never come to watch this. Niranye and the stable masters were nowhere to be seen, probably having sensed early on how dangerous it would be for Altmer to be here. He felt blood on his face and resisted the urge to wipe it off, which would only smear it.

"Now the rest of them!" someone shouted. "Bring 'em all out!" There were more cheers in answer to that than was comfortable.

Ulfric sighed and murmured to Bryn, "You can deal with this."

"This is your city, your hold," she softly reminded him. Ulfric frowned, not taking his eyes from her, and when he did nothing she turned away, trying to keep her expression calm, then she heard Galmar yell at the agitators before she could do it.

"Are we no better than the Thalmor?" he yelled, walking toward the source of the voice. Not that he didn't know who it was. His worthless coward of a brother was hiding in the mass of people, who had fallen silent. Galmar waved his hand at the Dunmer, who were clearly frightened, huddled together. "These are citizens of Windhelm, citizens of Eastmarch, citizens of Skyrim. Anyone laying hands on an Elven citizen or their property, any other citizen and their property, will have me to answer to, got it?"

Bryn called out, "And you had better hope Galmar gets to you before I do."

"Aye, Dragonborn," the housecarl growled. He motioned to the crowd and said, "The show is over. Everyone back to your homes and businesses." People began to turn away, talking softly to each other, and he watched for Rolff but the lazy bastard had disappeared. He looked at the Dunmer, who were waiting for everyone else to leave, and he gruffly said to them, "Anyone causes you trouble, you tell Jorleif or Thane Brunwulf. You'll be heard." They nodded, dozens of pairs of blood-red eyes blinking in surprise or lingering worry. He turned away, leaving it at that. He didn't like Elves much more than Ulfric did, but he wasn't about to allow his own people to turn into a bloodthirsty mob, and he wasn't about to have it said that Ulfric had allowed it. He sure as hell wasn't going to leave the Dragonborn to deal with a situation that it wasn't her place to handle. He had seen the disappointment in her eyes. There was no way he was going to let Ulfric risk losing Bryn because he couldn't bring himself to defend Elves. The crowd dispersed and he noted the guards were doing their jobs, keeping order and not allowing anyone to molest the Dunmer. He grumbled and returned to the bloody scene, the blood already coagulating on the freezing cold stones of the courtyard. Ulfric was still watching Bryn, frowning, and it worried Galmar.

Bryn retrieved the head, picking it up by the hair, though she kept it turned away to avoid looking at Elenwen's face. That she could not handle. "Well Galmar," she quietly said, "it seems I may have miscalculated. I'm sorry."

"Sorry, lass? What the hell are you sorry for?" he said in a rough voice. "I'm sorry that my idiot brother still hasn't learned his lesson. The greyskins at least work, which is more than I can say for him and that lazy bastard Agrenor." He motioned to Elenwen's body. "What do you want done with that?"

"Burn it, throw it in the river…I don't particularly care." She looked over her shoulder at Jorleif, who was still back by the doors, wanting no part of the bloody business. "Can I have a sack for this, please Jorleif?" The steward nodded and hurried inside. Bryn turned back to Galmar and smiled at him, putting her hand on his shoulder, then she let him go and looked at Ulfric. Those soulful eyes gazed back sadly, making it impossible to stay irritated with him. She asked softly, "Am I still invited to dinner, _kodaavi?_"

Ulfric let out a shaky breath and whispered, "Hell yes." Of course she forgave him. It would take more than a single instance, even a major one like this, to make her write him off. Especially if she had put up with that Companion for a year.

"I have to go back in the morning, but…I'm exhausted. You wouldn't believe the day I've had."

"Then come tell us about it over dinner, but not before we get cleaned up. This is not appetizing." Now he knew why headmen always used those long poleaxes.

Jorleif came running out with a leather sack and held it open for Bryn, gagging a bit as she lowered the head in. "I hope you've got a good reason for keeping this, my lady," the steward said with a grimace. He tied the bag shut and handed it to her.

"Just adding it to my collection," she said lightly.

"You're joking."

"No, I am not. Twenty-seven Thalmor heads will soon be on their way to the Imperial City."

"Talos be praised," Yrsarald said fervently, the men around him echoing the sentiment. "This is a story I think we all want to hear."

Ulfric offered Bryn his arm and led her upstairs. Once they were in his room he closed the door and took the head from her, setting it in the corner nearby, as far from the banked fire as possible. Bryn shrugged out of her backpack then took off the Jagged Crown. Ulfric watched as she began to unbuckle her armor, wishing he could find the process as arousing as he usually did. Such things were the farthest from his mind right now. Bryn didn't look at him, and he couldn't say whether it was to give him space she thought he needed or because she was still upset with him. When she was down to her doublet and pants and she still hadn't spoken, he said with difficulty, "I've disappointed you. Haven't I."

"Yes, but perhaps my expectations were too high."

"I know that they're…hm. I know they're my people. In that I am responsible for them."

"No one says you have to love them."

"Do you?"

"Yes. But because they've earned it. I'm willing to love anyone, as long as they don't give me a reason not to. It's surprising how little consideration you have to show desperate people to earn their loyalty." She dug through her pack then sighed, seeing she had nothing clean to wear. She hadn't had the chance in Solitude to even see if she still owned Proudspire Manor.

"You have a few gowns here. In the wardrobe." It comforted him to see her clothes hanging there, as a wife's would, though she had left little other trace of herself here other than the occasional golden hair he found in the bed, each one a tiny treasure. She nodded and made a sound as if she just remembered, though she had left here less than a week ago. "What did she say to you?" he asked as Bryn stripped down to her skin. He wished he could enjoy it more than he was.

"Who?"

Suddenly angry, he stated, "You know who. Stop this…whatever it is you're doing!" Bryn turned slowly on her heel to look at him, her face expressionless and golden eyes flat. "I'm sorry I did not defend the Dunmer. I…I can't do it. I can't look at an Elf and not want to strangle the life out of them, no matter how innocent they really are. I can't tolerate the sight of them, or the beast folk. I know why that is, and I should be better than that, stronger than that, and I am not." At that Bryn's expression crumpled as her eyes began to glisten, and when a tear fell he whispered, "What did that bitch tell you!" She shook her head and dropped her gaze, and when she moved to the bed to lay out the dress he swiftly moved to grab her shoulders. "What did she tell you!" he shouted. Bryn gasped, flinching back, and he yanked his hands back and whispered in horror, "I'm sorry!" He looked at his hands and realized they were bloody, that the bloody axe hung off his belt, that he was splattered with blood. She stood there so pale and fair, naked and vulnerable, and he felt like a filthy beast. "I am," he whispered. "I'm just a filthy beast, aren't I? Just as she said I was."

"No," Bryn moaned, putting her hand over his mouth as she shook her head vehemently, more tears spilling onto her cheeks. "Don't ever call yourself that. Never. You're…you're a fine man." Her voice broke, Bryn unable to stop a little sob from escaping.

"What did she tell you?" he asked in a pleading tone.

"She was trying to make me kill her, that's all." Ulfric waited, not about to take no for an answer, his blue-green eyes blazing, and she shuddered and whispered, "She…she told me about…the people who…the women, and…and the men, what they did to…ugh, I can't say it!" Ulfric nodded slowly and looked away, blinking, his jaw clenched and cheeks red. She couldn't help flashes of it passing before her eyes, though her imagination had trouble coming up with the images. She wasn't sure what she had thought when he had first told her he could barely bring himself to touch a woman because of it, but she hadn't imagined he had literally been raped, and by both women and men at that. She was still so sheltered in so many ways that she really couldn't imagine what Elenwen had had done to him. She then suddenly realized why Ulfric never allowed her to be on top, and it made her nauseous. He was playful in not allowing it, but in hindsight she could see he had deftly tried to redirect her to keep her from thinking too hard about the reasons for it.

"Say something," he demanded in a near whisper.

"I love you."

Ulfric made a sound of pain and closed his eyes. "You must, to tolerate what you do." Ah, to finally hear those words, and under these circumstances, words he had always believed no woman would ever say to him.

"There's no tolerance involved. You've been nothing but sweet and kind to me."

"You love something that is used up and broken." He felt Bryn's arms go around his neck, heedless of the blood on his face and clothing, and he put his arms around her and held her tightly, trying not to crush her against his armor. "Gods, why won't you leave me?" he choked. "You waste yourself!" He felt her shake her head and kiss his neck. He breathed in the smell of lavender and human sweat, her own particular scent, and felt her soft white Nord skin, and it made him want to cry. All of it did. She did. "I don't deserve this. You. I don't deserve your love, your patience, your understanding, your smiles, your kisses…none of it!"

"My love is mine to give where I see fit." She lifted her head and kissed him tenderly, and he kissed her back ferociously, digging his fingers into her flesh, and she let him do what he wanted. She had heard somewhere, maybe from Mjoll, that men often sought comfort in sex. If he thought this would make him feel better then she couldn't protest it. He kneaded and caressed her roughly then pushed her back onto the bed, undoing his pants then pulling her to the edge and shoving himself into her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, the lack of foreplay making it slightly uncomfortable but the spontaneity of it was so exciting it more than made up for it. It was terribly erotic to get taken on the bed while he was fully clothed, and it caused her a pang of grief to remember Vilkas doing something similar when they first came together. She pushed thoughts of him away and focused on Ulfric, watching his face; his eyes were closed, squeezed shut, a look of pain on his face, and it was alternately unsettling and arousing in a dirty way to see the blood splattered on him.

Ulfric opened his eyes as he grabbed her ankles and put them on his shoulders, and when he leaned over her and plunged in deeper she couldn't help letting out a moan of delirious pleasure. She clutched at the blanket on either side of her to hold herself, and before long the angle and depth massaged that certain spot just so and made her entire body shudder in a climax that left her head spinning. He pushed her legs aside to lay his forehead against her chest and groaned, moving his hips slightly as she felt him harden further inside her. She had never heard him make any noise before when he came, and she couldn't help wondering with sorrow if he had conditioned himself so long ago to be as quiet as possible, in an attempt to hide it, to deprive his tormentors of at least that small bit of satisfaction. She cursed Elenwen all over again and lost whatever small sympathy she had felt for her before her miserable head came off.

She began to pet his hair as he pulled out of her, and she could see silver strands mixed in with the honeyed ones. He didn't move except to bring his hands up to hold her as he caught his breath, an occasional shudder going through him. She brought her legs up to wrap them around his waist, and he turned his head slightly to lay it on her chest between her breasts, nuzzling at one of them then giving it a soft kiss. She murmured, "You are not filthy or a beast." Vilkas had called himself the same, though for different reasons, and it made her wonder what drew her to such tormented men. Maybe it was her drive to help people, to give aid. Maybe it was the dark complexities to them that fascinated her so. Maybe it didn't pay to think about it too hard.

"You are much too fine for me."

"Nonsense." She shifted slightly, his breastplate digging into her stomach, and he quickly stood away from her, his expression one of self-loathing, then he made a sound of disgust as he looked at her. She sat up on her elbows and looked down at herself to see blood smeared on her body, and the sight of it seemed to make him almost nauseous, Ulfric grimacing as he squeezed his eyes shut and held his middle. Bryn slid off the bed and hurried to him, but he avoided her touch, shaking his head. She looked around for a napkin or something to clean off with, and found washcloths in the wardrobe, and she poured water in the washing bowl and quickly washed herself off. She rinsed the cloth out then tried going to him again, and though he was stiff this time he let her touch him. She began gently cleaning his face, and she was nearly done when he finally opened his eyes. The haunted look in them made her want to cry for him, but she couldn't let herself. He would feel compelled to be the strong one if she did, and this wasn't about her.

Once his face was clean she took his hands and began wiping them off, and Ulfric let her do so, not protesting when she began to remove his gauntlets, then his chainmail coat and the rest of his armor. She didn't look at his face, and he appreciated that, though he grieved it. She was so careful of him, so considerate, and it made him feel like a child, when she was young enough to be his daughter. It was mostly soothing, being cared for, but it made him angry at himself for making her feel it was necessary. When she tried to clean the remains of sex off him he finally grabbed her wrist to stop her, taking the damp cloth from her. She looked at him with worry, and he muttered, "I wish I had never touched you that night you gave me the dossier. Started all this."

"I don't wish that." He shook his head and turned away to clean himself off, and as he pulled up his underclothes and sat on a chair to remove his bloody boots Bryn said, "I meant what I said: I love you." It wasn't until she had said it earlier that she realized that she did. It wasn't the wild, passionate love she'd had for Vilkas, and still did, but it was love all the same.

"I wish you didn't."

"Why?"

"Because I am not worthy of it."

"No one is, really."

"Do not joke, it isn't the time." Ulfric threw a boot aside and said angrily, "I took you like some animal, after you told me what she said to you. You couldn't even bring yourself to say it, how they raped and used me, and yet in the next breath I take you like that!"

"Obviously it did me no harm."

"It…you had…" Blood, all over her, afterward. He shut his eyes, feeling ill. It had made it seem like she was the spoils of war, something no decent man would ever partake of. He knew that wasn't what he had been feeling at the time, but it seemed like that afterward. He wasn't even sure what he had been feeling then. Maybe he had only wanted comfort and acceptance. Wanted to know that she wouldn't shrink away from his touch, knowing what she knew now. He leaned forward and put his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees, and wished again that he hadn't started this between them. It had been the ultimate in selfishness, wanting something clean and good, someone young and innocent, when he was old and damaged beyond repair. He felt her hand on his back, another in his hair, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to shrug her off and make her leave, if only to protect her. Save her from him. She gave and gave, to everyone around her, always sacrificing herself and her own happiness and getting so little in return, and soon she would be High Queen and the demands would never cease after that.

"I could have stopped you at any point," Bryn stated in a gentle tone. She could feel the tension in him, as if he were about to flee.

"And you didn't because you pity me."

"No, I didn't because you seemed to need it." He made a sound of disgust, and she knelt at his side, ignoring the cold hardness of the stone floor. "Please don't torment yourself, darling—" He made a choking sound of pain and pulled her close, startling her. Bryn wrapped her arm around his leg and said, "It was my choice to love you. I knew going into this how old you are. I knew you'd had terrible things done to you. My body and my affections are mine to give where I feel like it, and I chose you, because of all the men in Skyrim only you were not afraid of me, and only you truly understand what I am and don't shy away from it, and you taught me to accept it when no one else could have. This is…it's a mutually beneficial relationship. Don't think that I get nothing out of it. I wouldn't keep coming back if that were so."

"All right, all right," he whispered, nodding, letting out a shuddering breath as he blinked back tears. He should have known better than to treat her like some addle-brained girl-child who didn't know what she wanted. If she wanted him then he had no right to try to drive her away. She was certainly no coward, and if she thought she could deal with his trauma over the long haul then that was her choice, and he was selfishly glad for it. After that month of having her in his bed every night, waking up to her every morning, having someone always there to talk to, to touch…if she left, if he never saw her again except at a distance…the rest of his life wouldn't be worth living. It would be desolate and unbearable. He wasn't sure how Vilkas lived with himself, knowing what he had so foolishly lost.

"I love you," she insisted.

He let out a sad laugh and replied, "So you do. And the love I have for you frightens me." He buried his face in her pale hair. "You have brought sunshine and warmth to this cold house. How I wish…" Wished he could marry her and fill the palace with golden-haired children. But he would grow old by time they reached adulthood. He would be fifty soon, and Bryn not even twenty-nine yet.

"Come on," she said, letting go of him to stand. "Let's get dressed and go downstairs and eat. Everyone is waiting for us, and I still have a grand story to tell." Ulfric nodded and took a deep breath, and she stroked his scarred cheek, sighing at the look in his eyes. Those beautiful sea-colored eyes that never lost a touch of sadness. "So handsome," she murmured. She hadn't thought so at first, but his looks had grown on her, that strong Nord face with its rugged features.

"Handsome!" he scoffed.

"Yes, you are."

"You're delusional, clearly." Bryn laughed and moved away to get dressed. He went to the wardrobe to find clean, unbloodied clothes, and when he looked up she was watching him, a smile on her face.

"I love you, Ulfric."

He felt his face grow warm and demanded, "Stop it." She giggled and he couldn't help laughing quietly at the sweet sound. He felt spent and tired, sad, but no longer angry. He glanced at the bag in the corner and couldn't decide how he felt about it. Relieved, certainly. Elenwen had paid for her crimes and would commit no further ones. Skyrim might never be free of the Empire, but it was free of the Thalmor, and maybe once the Aldmeri Dominion was pushed back the Empire might become something worth being part of again. The High King or Queen had always been a member of the Elder Council; perhaps once Bryn was part of it she could flush out the corruption there and advise the Emperor on how to get things back on track, if that was even possible at this point. Well, first things first. Bryn needed to be crowned Queen and knit Skyrim back together, and as quickly as possible. The Thalmor would wonder why their emissaries were so silent and would either send more to find out why, or assume the worst and forge ahead with their plans to start the Second War. It was all just a matter of time before it began, but Skyrim couldn't face it in its current condition, one he had sadly contributed to.


	34. Chapter 34

Farkas came running into the Harbinger's outer quarters, Vilkas' quarters, a wide grin on his face, but before he could blurt anything out he realized his brother had company. It had been over four months since his twin had become Harbinger, and Farkas still wasn't used to seeing him sitting in Kodlak's old seat. He had to admit though, Vilkas made a good Harbinger. He was a lot more hands-on than Kodlak had been, anyway, which had caused some grumbling at first, but after everyone got used to it they'd realized it was an improvement having someone who actively involved himself in how things ran in Jorrvaskr, instead of just letting everyone do whatever the hell they wanted. Vilkas felt that controlled chaos was no way to run a business, and from the number of jobs that kept coming in that must be true. Farkas nodded to the Jarl's younger brother. "Hey Hrongar."

"Farkas," he said with a nod of greeting. "How goes it?"

"Lydia's pregnant!" The Jarl's brother smiled broadly at the news, while Vilkas' smile was strained. Farkas frowned at his twin and asked, "What's wrong?" Vilkas hadn't been a particularly pleasant person to visit with since Bryn's departure, and it had gotten worse since the news a couple months ago about who she had replaced him with, but Farkas had expected more than this. Vilkas cared for Lydia as a sister, a vital part of Jorrvaskr now, especially since Tilma had fallen again and was now confined to bed. It had been an interesting last few months: the arrival of Aela's newborn a few weeks ago; Mjoll's joining of the Companions with Aerin tagging along, though that had been a good thing since he was a tremendous help to Lydia; the elopement of Jon Battle-Born and Olfina Gray-Mane a month ago; and the news that Bryn had removed the Thalmor presence from Skyrim entirely and the Emperor had pardoned Ulfric. Every time the name of the Jarl of Eastmarch was mentioned Vilkas looked ready to explode, or start bawling.

Farkas had actually been fairly shocked when word had started circulating that Bryn was Ulfric's lover, and even Lydia had been taken aback by it, seeming stunned and almost hurt by it, maybe because she'd had no clue that Bryn was going to do anything like that. Maybe because like everyone else in the world she had always believed Bryn and Vilkas would fix things and get back together. Bryn had spent an entire month in Windhelm, living in Ulfric's private quarters for gods' sake, before going to Solitude and meeting with Tullius, riding there on a dragon no less. A real honest-to-gods dragon, the same one she had captured here in Whiterun. People said she had jumped from the dragon onto the Thalmor ship and slaughtered everyone on board, kidnapping First Emissary Elenwen then delivering her to Ulfric to execute. Farkas and Lydia had found that last part upsetting, though no one was sorry for it. That Bryn was capable of such a thing was hard to accept, but it was obvious that something had changed in her since returning from Sovngarde. A being who could Shout from the top of a mountain loud enough for people to hear a hundred miles in every direction wasn't anything to be underestimated. Still, Farkas and Lydia both were anxious to see her again, if only to reassure themselves that she was all right, mentally.

Vilkas stated, "Jarl Balgruuf is calling the Moot." Farkas nodded, surprised but not unduly. It hadn't been unexpected that one of the Jarls would call for it soon. Seeing his twin wasn't getting it, he added, "The Jarl who calls the Moot hosts it. It will be held in Dragonsreach, one month from today." Farkas grunted. "All the Jarls are coming here," he said impatiently. "And her."

"Bryn." He didn't think Vilkas had said her name even once since finding out she was with Ulfric, and he hadn't really said it much before that either.

"Whatever."

Hrongar knew enough about that business to steer clear of it entirely. He said, "Balgruuf asks that you attend, Harbinger. It is a momentous occasion. The Harbinger has usually attended the Moots, down through history. I would hope this would be no different." Vilkas didn't reply, staring at his brother, who stared back, unfazed, and it made Hrongar more than a little uncomfortable. Identical twins were strange in any case, extremely rare, but being stuck between these two was like being caught between two sabre cats. Hrongar cleared his throat, and Vilkas finally turned back to him, his silvery-gray eyes cold. "So? Will you attend?"

"I don't really have a choice, do I."

"Yes, you do," Farkas said in annoyance. "A choice between attending and looking like a fool." Vilkas sneered at him, angry, but Farkas wasn't intimidated by it. For most of their lives he had followed Vilkas' lead, and still did, but when it came to Bryn his brother was an idiot and Farkas wasn't going to put up with it.

"I will be there," Vilkas told Hrongar. He hesitated then forced out, "Please tell Jarl Balgruuf…thank him for the invitation." An invitation to sheer misery. He knew the Companions' history better than even Vignar did, since he had access to the Harbingers' private archives, the organizing of which had taken up most of his free time for the first two months of his job. He knew damn well that the Harbinger was expected to witness historic events like the Moots, and this was a Moot like none other. For the first time the candidate expected to become the ruler of Skyrim wasn't even a Jarl. Being the lover of one didn't count. If he was called upon to give his opinion it would be expected that he give it, though he found the notion that being Harbinger gave him any special wisdom ridiculous. He wasn't even sure what opinion he could give at the Moot; the Companions were traditionally neutral when it came to politics. They refused to involve themselves as a whole in wars or inter-hold bickering. And then there was the fact that it was Bryn. How could he say she should or shouldn't be High Queen when he couldn't get his own head straight when it came to her?

Hrongar nodded and rose from the seat, eager to get away from Vilkas and his attitude. The man had always had one, but it had lessened considerably while he was with the Dragonborn, and soured considerably since she had left. People still weren't sure why the two had split, though everyone knew it was Bryn who had ended it. Considering Vilkas' temperament it wasn't hard to see why she had. He said to Vilkas, "I take my leave then, Harbinger. Good day, Companions."

"Good day," Farkas replied with a nod, and Hrongar gave Vilkas one more concerned look then left the room, a bit faster than was warranted. Once he was gone through the door at the end of the hallway, Farkas said to Vilkas, "Try to have some goddamn dignity, would you?" Vilkas came to his feet with a snarl of anger, and he said, "She hasn't done anything wrong. Stop being so damn pissy all the time!"

Vilkas said hotly, "You expect me to be all smiles seeing her here with Ulfric?"

"No, but I expect you to not be like this. There's nothing wrong with her being with Ulfric, as long as he's good to her." This really wasn't how he wanted to talk about this with him, or the time for it, but better it come out now and get it over with. Vilkas had said not one word to anyone about who Bryn was with now. He'd hardly said a word to anyone about Bryn at all.

"He's old enough to be her fucking father!" Vilkas shouted furiously.

Farkas went to close the doors as Vilkas began to pace, and once they were closed he retorted, "So what. Did you ever think that maybe he was the only one she thought would understand her? You've heard what happened to her. She can't even talk in a normal voice anymore, Vilkas. They say her eyes are gold because they reflect Shor's glory. How the hell do you think she felt to come back from the land of the dead and find out she had changed like that? She already felt weird and different from everyone else, and then that. She had to stay with the Greybeards for weeks to be able to control her Voice even a little. Ulfric was nearly a Greybeard. Maybe he was really the only choice she felt she had." Vilkas rubbed his face, still pacing, and Farkas said in aggravation, "I'm tired of you being angry all the time. None of this was her fault."

"I never said it was. I'm angry with myself."

Farkas' own irritation subsided at that. "Well that would've been nice to know a few months ago, instead of all of us thinking you've been pissed off at her this whole time."

"I was but…" He huffed and sat back down hard in the chair and leaned his forehead on his hands, saying roughly, "I don't want to see her again, Farkas. It still hurts too much. I keep expecting her to just show up, the way she used to. It doesn't seem possible that she isn't coming back. That she's with someone else. I can't…I don't understand how it all went so wrong, so fast!"

Farkas sat down in the other chair, feeling sorry for his twin and wishing he had talked to him sooner, after they had found out about Ulfric. "Maybe to her it wasn't fast. She spent all that time alone, after the peace conference. She had a lot of time to think."

"Yes, think about how she would be better off with Ulfric than me."

"Uh uh," Farkas said with a shake of his head. "Don't even go there. Lydia would have known if that was Bryn's intent. The girls talked constantly the last two weeks they were together, and maybe Bryn said she felt sorry for Ulfric but she never planned to go to him. I don't think she did until she came back from Sovngarde changed. Lydia said all Bryn wanted to do when she came back was spend some time in Riften cleaning it up and being alone. She was there for a month and a half, alone."

"So what made her leave and go to him?" Farkas shrugged helplessly. "Has she…"

When his twin trailed off then shook his head Farkas prompted, "What?"

"Written. To you or Lydia."

"Yeah, but it didn't say anything about Ulfric."

"Or me?" Farkas didn't answer, looking away instead. "Was it…bad?"

"I don't know," his brother muttered warily. Vilkas made a sound of anguish and got up again to pace. Farkas tried not to grit his teeth at the habit, one he had always found unsettling and annoying. Vilkas seemed to never stop moving. Farkas had hoped curing the beastblood would get rid of the pacing and he had been very disappointed in that regard.

"So she, what, hates me then? She's never going to forgive me for it, is she? How the hell can she be so vindictive!"

"That isn't…she never…ugh, Lydia told me not to get involved," Farkas said in a tone of dread.

Vilkas said in an apologetic tone, "Ah, Lydia. I'm sorry. Congratulations, I know this isn't what you wanted it to be. I'm…I'm happy for you both. I truly am."

"Thanks."

"Can I read—"

"No," Farkas said firmly. "No way. I promised Punkin you wouldn't ever see it."

"What did it say! Tell me, damn it!"

Farkas grimaced, feeling stuck between his wife and brother. He didn't know what to say. "She doesn't hate you. She isn't mad at you. She's just…sad. That's all." There was no way he was telling Vilkas that she had written that she missed him terribly, that she thought she had made a horrible mistake by leaving him, that she wished things could work out between them, and that if he ended up coming to Riften before that month was out that she would go back to him, marriage or not. The letter had made both Lydia and Farkas swear not to say anything to Vilkas about any of it, to leave it up to him, but neither of them could figure out how Vilkas would even know that Bryn wanted him to go to Riften. The month had come and gone and next thing they knew everyone in Skyrim was buzzing about the Dragonborn being in Jarl Ulfric's bed. He couldn't ever tell Vilkas that there had been a narrow window of opportunity there, a window he hadn't known existed. It would kill him to know that. Farkas had believed all this time that Vilkas was still angry at Bryn, but knowing that he was grieving and missing her instead…the information would send Vilkas over the edge.

"Sad," Vilkas said with a short laugh. "That's nice, isn't it? Just sad."

Farkas saw Vilkas fingering the gold bracelet, and he warned, "Don't do it, Vilkas."

"I have no intention of taking it off. I'm going to flash the fucking thing all over the place so she can see that at least my promises mean something!" His twin slowly shook his head, his tongue in his cheek. Vilkas suddenly headed for his bedroom, throwing the door open, and Farkas grumbled and followed him. He got out the key to the large chest and unlocked it.

"What the hell are you doing?" Farkas asked tiredly.

"I want you to fit Kodlak's ebony armor to me."

"I can't work ebony," he reminded him. "Not yet, and why now?"

"I'm not going to stand before the High Queen and all the Jarls of Skyrim in this shitty wolf armor."

"I took the wolves off."

"Whatever, you know that I mean! She wanted me to wear it, Kodlak wanted me to wear it, so I'm going to wear it. If I'm the goddamn Harbinger then by Ysgramor I'm going to look like it." Farkas didn't protest, standing patiently as Vilkas piled the armor into his arms. He couldn't wait to see the look on Bryn's face when she saw him standing in front of her, resplendent in full ebony plate, taller and more handsome by far than her old, worn-out, horse-faced lover. The Jarl of Eastmarch would look very inadequate in comparison.

"You're doing it for the wrong reasons," Farkas warned.

"It doesn't matter what my reasons are."

"It does if you try to embarrass her in front of the whole province."

Offended, Vilkas said, "You really think I would do that."

"You said not five minutes ago that you couldn't believe she would be vindictive, and here you are thinking about being vindictive. You're going to regret it. You always regret what you do when you get like this." To his relief, Vilkas deflated slightly at that. Farkas said with some difficulty, "Look, Bryn… please just let her be, okay? Things are hard enough for her. I promised my wife I wouldn't get involved but I can't go letting you do something dumb and hurt Bryn, or make yourself look bad." Vilkas glowered at him for a long moment then nodded and looked away. He looked down into the chest and the Amulet of Mara was still there, and he narrowed his eyes and slammed the chest shut. Farkas said, "I'll take this up to the old man and see how much he wants for fitting it and polishing it up. The straps might need replacing too after all this time." Vilkas nodded, and Farkas sighed and turned away. He should have known something would happen to ruin his announcement, and that something would be due to Vilkas.

Vilkas grumbled and followed his twin, saying, "So…how far along is she?"

Relieved, Farkas said, "Danica thinks only about a month at most. Sounds about right." His brother patted him on the back and Farkas gave him a bright smile. "I can't believe I'm going to be a father. Our baby can grow up with Skjorta. They'll be running around Jorrvaskr all the time just like you and me did. Won't it be great?"

"Yes it will."

"Uncle Vilkas."

He made a sound of horror and said, "It makes me sound like I'm sixty." He sighed sadly. "I wish Kodlak was here to see. He would have loved the little ones."

"She saw him, you know. In Sovngarde."

"Well that would have been nice to know!" Vilkas spat, furious all over again, this time with this brother. "What the hell? What else haven't you told me?"

"I just forgot!" Farkas exclaimed. "It happens!"

"Well?"

"She just said that she saw him there, and after Alduin was defeated he made his way to Tsun to cross into Shor's Hall. He was happy." Vilkas' anger drained out of him. "I'm sorry," he said with regret. "We got the letter after she had been in Riften for a couple weeks. She wanted us to know she was okay and what she saw. She saw Ysgramor himself there, can you believe it? He greeted her at the door! He said that Shor told them to stay inside the hall and not face Alduin, to wait for the Dragonborn to come and three heroes of old joined her in the battle. She saw King Olaf there, and the first Greybeard, Jurgen Windcaller. She said it was…well, she said there aren't words for it. She said Tsun forced her to go back. When she woke up she was up at the top of the mountain and dragons were all around her." He paused then said, "That's all I can remember right now. Maybe Lydia can remember more."

"Maybe you can just let me read the damn letter," Vilkas muttered.

"Forget it. If she wanted you to read a letter she would have sent you one."

"Well she didn't," he said with resentment. "She could have at least told me about Kodlak and Ysgramor."

"She probably expected me to, and like I said, I forgot. I've been kind of busy lately, you know?"

Vilkas sighed, "Yes, I know." He tried to smile but couldn't. "I'm happy for you and Lydia. I swear it."

"If it's a boy, we're going to name him Jergen."

"Of course."

Farkas stared at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out if his twin was being snide, then gave up. Some days with Vilkas it just didn't pay. "I'll let you know what Eorlund says about the armor, okay?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Come to dinner at our house tonight. Lydia probably could tell you more about the letter." And Lydia would know what should and shouldn't be said about it.

"Sure."

Farkas walked away and Vilkas let him go, feeling like a jerk for ruining his brother's happy news, but there was no way either of them could have known it would come at the same time as news of the Moot. Here, in Whiterun. As he turned back to return to his quarters he saw someone coming out of Aela's room, and he watched Mjoll closing the door carefully, Skjorta in one arm. The Lioness put a finger to her lips and Vilkas nodded. When the woman neared he quietly asked, "Is Aela getting some sleep?"

"Yes, little one here has a full belly of milk so Mama can catch a nap," Mjoll answered. "I'm taking her to see Tilma. She loves holding the baby."

Vilkas watched her cradle the half-awake infant, rocking her gently, and it sent a pang of grief through him out of nowhere. He hadn't spent much time around the baby girl, or any baby in general, and seeing Skjorta in Mjoll's arms made him suddenly miss Skjor terribly. Bryn had told him that Skjor never even knew Aela was pregnant; Aela herself hadn't known until he had been dead for a few weeks, the child probably conceived right before he died. Vilkas supposed Skjorta was a good baby, as far as he could tell. He rarely heard her cry, but then she had two devoted mothers constantly in attendance, when Mjoll wasn't running a job in Aela's place. The Lioness wasn't part of the Circle, something Vilkas thought he might have to rectify before too much longer, but she might as well be, the way she bossed around the junior members, and that she was a skilled trainer went without saying. Vilkas had sparred against her a few times and it had been a challenge.

"So, Harbinger," Mjoll said, "I've been meaning to ask you something." Vilkas nodded, looking at the baby with a sad expression. "I want to marry Aela. Is that going to be a problem?"

He laughed shortly in bewilderment, caught off guard. That was Mjoll; always brutally direct. You always knew just where you stood with her and what she was thinking. It was refreshing, if still shocking at times. "Why would it be?"

Mjoll smiled brightly. "Ah, excellent! I was afraid it might cause problems, but it shouldn't if no one lets it."

"I don't see how it would be any different than it already is." Mjoll already shared Aela's quarters. Nothing would change that he could tell if they married. It still felt odd being asked his opinion on things. He wasn't sure he would ever get used to it.

"Shouldn't be. Aela told me it has been custom that Companions leave Jorrvaskr after marriage, but then she told me Kodlak and Skjor always considered the Companions a family. Why would you leave your family to make a family of your own? Just make the family you've got bigger, that's my take on it." Vilkas smiled briefly and nodded. She studied him for a moment then said, "You seem troubled, brother. What is it?"

Vilkas chewed at his top lip for a few seconds then said, "The Moot will be held here in one month."

"Ahh," Mjoll said sadly. "I see. And you're Harbinger and expected to attend, I take it?" He nodded. "Well, no one says you have to visit with her or even talk to her. This is a meeting of the Jarls, a dignified occasion. It isn't as if you're going to see her making out with Ulfric in a corner." Vilkas made a choking sound and covered his eyes, and Mjoll couldn't help giving him a nudge with her elbow, laughing. "You're as bad as Bryn, and that's just funny. She at least has a good reason to be all dainty and shocked."

"I am not dainty and shocked," he said angrily as his hand came down. "I am simply…_appalled_ that you would say something about…them. Together. To me."

Mjoll rolled her eyes. "So what. So she's with another man now. Big deal. I told her to go out and fuck her way across Skryim to get over you, but she wouldn't hear of it, and she was so self-conscious about her Voice the thought made her want to die. Could you imagine that, never being able to enjoy sex because you're afraid everyone for miles around will hear it?" Vilkas stared at her with wild eyes, his face flushed. She shook her head and him and said, "You two are a real piece of work, Vilkas. Truly. You both had a chance to figure things out. Even after she came back from Sovngarde there was still a chance. She was still whining about how she thought she had made a mistake. She spent so much time praying in the Temple of Mara I thought she was going to wear her knees out. Well, it didn't work out with you two. If Mara answered her prayers with someone else then it isn't our place to question it." His jaw clenched as he glared at her with a wounded expression. "If it's any consolation, I told her I don't trust Ulfric and that she should stay away from him, and she gave me some line about saving him from himself and saving Skyrim at the same time. Always the martyr, always trying to help others before she helps herself. And what if she becomes Queen, eh? She will cease to belong to herself at all. She will belong to the people, to everyone." Vilkas' anger seemed to diminish somewhat at that. She made a sound of sympathy and said, "Look, what you two had was nice, but maybe it wasn't meant to be."

"What was meant to be then?" he countered in a hurt tone. "Her wasting her life on a man old enough to be her father?"

"I told her as much when she was getting ready to leave Riften, after I decided to come back to Whiterun to be with Aela. I told her it was a bad idea, but she was so upset and angry she wouldn't listen to me. She would hardly even talk about why she was so upset, only that she'd waited and nothing happened. Well how can anything happen when you're just sitting around waiting for it to happen and you don't go make it happen? You can't spend all your time praying for some distant Divine to fix your life for you. I told her one more time that I didn't think going to Ulfric was a good idea, and she said even with all his faults he was the only man in Tamriel who would accept her for exactly who and what she was, and that he was the only man she had ever met who didn't fear her in some way. If that is so, well…it is her choice. Maybe for her it was the only choice."

Feeling wounded to the core, he stated bitterly, "What choice? How is that a choice? So she waited in Riften and prayed to Mara for me to magically appear and marry her, is that it? And I didn't show up so she went to Ulfric. A scarred-up, aging murderer. That is the choice she felt she had to make. How the hell was I supposed to know she still wanted me? I tried making things right with her one last time. I did right up to the minute before she mounted that dragon and flew away, and she was cold. She pushed me away. I thought that was how she wanted it."

Mjoll sighed, "She couldn't respond then—"

"Yeah, yeah, Mara's mercy," he spat. "Well where the hell was her mercy after that? There was no way I could know Bryn still wanted me when she came back. All it would have taken was seeing her again. A letter. Something. Even hearing from someone that she still wanted me. It would have taken the smallest hint and I would have gone to her, but I got nothing. I don't want to hear about her whining over me when she came back when she did nothing to make what she wanted to happen happen. I'm not a fucking mind reader!"

Her eyebrows rose, though she was unfazed by his temper. She had to admit that he was certainly a sight when he was in a tizzy. She shrugged one shoulder and said, "All right then. You both screwed up. This will end up being one of those life lessons, eh?" She saw Vilkas' tongue run along his teeth as if he was debating whether to punch her, and she laughed, "So fierce, Alpha wolf. Better be careful about tangling with Alpha females."

Vilkas gasped, rearing back as if cold water had been thrown in his face. "What?"

"Oh, don't get your underclothes in a bunch. I didn't take the beastblood, and I never would. But for gods' sake, do you think I'm dumb? Aela had to tell me what she is. You can't imagine how hard that was for her, especially after all the tales I've told her of the werewolves I've put down in my travels. She explained that she wasn't a regular werewolf, that her nature is a direct gift of Hircine, not a disease, that she has complete control of her transformations. I have to admit I almost left her for that, but…I couldn't. I've seen her change since then, and I've seen that she does have control. She said both her parents were werewolves. I told her if I was going to stay that she had to swear to me that it ends with her and the little one is never offered the Blood, and she swore to me it would be so. When Skjorta is an adult we can start telling her about it, and you and Farkas can help with memories of Skjor."

Grieved and embarrassed, Vilkas whispered shakily, "But I'm not…not anymore. You know that, right?"

"Yes, yes," she said in unconcern, waving him off as she began rocking the baby again. "I've seen the wolf armor the Circle wears. Wore. Farkas stopped wearing his, the wolf on yours is gone… I can figure things out. Once I did Aela told me everything. You can be sure I've kept it to myself and will take it to my grave." She smiled at him and said, "From what Bryn told me of Sovngarde, you made the right choice. Such glory! She said that Kodlak told her he would be the first to greet her at the door of the Hall of Valor, and Ysgramor promised to serve her first drink. She said when she tried to go back inside she could hear them toasting her name and singing songs in her honor. She said she wanted to stay there and Tsun wouldn't let her, saying the land of the dead was no place for the living. She said she thought about killing herself right then and there so she could stay but Tsun suddenly scowled at her and Shouted her back to Nirn. Like he could tell what she was thinking! Can you imagine?" Vilkas closed his eyes, pained, and she patted him on the shoulder. "Hey, she would never do that. She's too strong for that. I know she seems like this fragile girl at times, but no delicate flower could Shout the top off a mountain, yeah?" She let her hand fall. "So Ulfric is old and his motives suspect. The peace has lasted nearly four months now, and he's holding it when no one thought he would. Maybe I have misjudged him. Maybe we all have, and who knows, maybe he even misjudged himself. If he can help Bryn accept her nature, make her feel better and stronger, then that is a good thing. She was really having problems, you know. She couldn't tolerate her own reflection and kept whispering to avoid using the _thu'um_. It was as if what she was horrified her. Ulfric was nearly a Greybeard. He understands those who are Dragonborn, as much as anyone can."

"Sure," Vilkas murmured. He gave her a twitch of a smile. "Thanks." She gave him another pat then walked away with the baby.

Vilkas grumbled to himself then returned to his quarters, no longer angry but still upset. Sure Ulfric could help Bryn. He helped her so much that she didn't blink at delivering Elenwen to him to execute, right in front of her, in fact she had helped by holding the Altmer woman down if rumor was correct. He supposed it wasn't much different than if she had killed Elenwen on the ship in battle, but there was just something more cold-blooded about it. Maybe that was part of what frightened him about seeing her again: seeing how she had changed. The eyes of pure gold, the constant _thu'um_, the ungodly strength she supposedly had… Of course Ulfric feared none of those things. He had spent half his youth immersed in the world of the _thu'um_, learning the dragon language and the lore of the Dragonborn. He had probably jumped at the chance to get his hands on her, so powerful and young and beautiful. He had probably considered her quite the prize. He probably couldn't believe his luck every time he bedded her.

Sick with jealousy, Vilkas went into his bedroom and shut and locked the door. He knew he wasn't fit company for anyone right now. He just wanted the Moot over with so he could go on with his life, somehow. But it wasn't for another month, so he had four more weeks to stew over it all. Over her. Four weeks to helplessly remember what they'd had, how they used to love each other. Or rather how she used to love him. Remember the things they used to do together and wonder if she was doing all those things with Ulfric. To Ulfric. He refused to believe she actually loved the man. Even if she did have some kind of care for him it couldn't be the way she had loved Vilkas. It simply wasn't possible to love anyone else the same way. Surely she didn't.

He threw himself onto the bed face-down, trying desperately not to cry like a lovesick idiot and not entirely succeeding. If only she had told him she still loved him. If only she had sent him some kind of message. Mjoll had come here and said nothing to him about Bryn, in fact had gone out of her way to not talk about her at all in his hearing. If Bryn had missed and loved him so much that she was praying constantly to Mara about it, why hadn't she let him know, somehow? If she was too afraid to face him again, a simple note would have sufficed. Anything. Instead she had left him with silence, while she stayed alone in Riften waiting for him when he didn't even know she was waiting, resenting him for something he hadn't known to do anything about. It was completely, utterly unfair. Now he was stuck doubly grieving the loss of her, now that he knew that for just a little while she would have been open to reconciliation, if only he had known. It made him furious with her that she hadn't let him know. How could she not let him know?

Fine then, Ulfric was welcome to her. Maybe she thought only a Jarl was good enough for her at this point. She was the high and mighty Dragonborn, maybe soon the High Queen. Of course a Jarl, a very powerful and influential Jarl, was a better match for her than some lowly warrior whose worldly possessions barely filled one small bedroom. His position as Harbinger was something honorary, holding no real power and of course no wealth. The other Companions listened to him and respected him, but he didn't actually lead them. Everywhere he went he was treated with more respect than before, but still, what did it really mean in the end? It wasn't as if he respected himself any more than he had before. Bryn probably didn't respect him a whole lot either. And so he was going to wear ebony to the Moot, so he wouldn't have to see her wrinkle her nose and imagine her thinking: _You're still wearing that wolf armor._ It might not mean much, but he was the Harbinger of the Companions and by Ysgramor he was going to look and act like it.

* * *

"My thane? You have a visitor."

"Thank you, Jordis," she called back. She sighed in frustration as she looked at the outfits on the bed, still not sure what to wear to the Moot in two weeks. She didn't want to show up dressed to the nines the way Elisif always did, making it look like she vainly just assumed she was going to be Queen (again, the way Elisif had). But if she wore her dragonscale armor she feared she would look like she was trying to intimidate everyone. She felt like she couldn't win.

She left her room and peered over the edge of the balcony to see Legate Rikke standing at parade rest by the front door. She pulled her head back, surprised by the visit, and not displeased by it. She liked the older woman, always unable to help wondering if her mother had been anything like her. She hadn't had much chance yet to get to know her, and wondered if that was what Rikke was here for. She had noticed that the Legate was wearing civilian clothing, Nord clothing, something Bryn hadn't seen her wear before.

Making her way downstairs, she heard Jordis offering Rikke refreshments, which the Legate accepted, which meant she intended to stay for a bit. That was fine. Bryn was rather lonely here in Proudspire Manor, though glad she still had it. She had returned to Solitude assuming the house and title of thane were still hers, giving Elisif the benefit of the doubt, and when she had unlocked the door and walked in Jordis had greeted her as if nothing was amiss, and questioning had revealed that she hadn't even been aware of Elisif's threat. No doubt Tullius had had a talk with the pretty young Jarl. She hadn't had the chance to ask him about it. She might have to soon, if for no other reason than the kick she got out of seeing him squirm when the girl was mentioned.

Rikke smiled at Bryn's approach. "Dragonborn," she said in greeting.

"Bryn, please," she said tiredly. "Or Brynhilde. I know I'm not a normal person, but I like to pretend sometimes." The Legate was taken aback by that, and she said in apology, "Sorry. I'm just feeling a little morose today."

"Uh, of course. Um, Bryn."

"Would you like to sit down?"

"Yes, thank you."

As they took their seats Bryn studied the older woman, who was wearing a fur coat over wool pants and tunic, looking completely Nord. She had to be in her early fifties, very close in age to Ulfric. She had served with him, and Galmar, during the war. Bryn was reluctant though to pick her brain about those days. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. Rikke must have been a beauty back then though; she was still lovely. Much lovelier in civilian clothing, that was for certain.

Seeing Bryn's intent gaze, Rikke laughed slightly and asked, "Wondering why I'm here, eh?"

"Yes. Not that it isn't a welcome visit." She snorted. "Solitude. I get plenty of that here."

"Well, the people…they don't want to impose. You'd have the whole city knocking on your door otherwise."

"Oh, certainly." Rikke frowned at the sarcasm. Bryn apologized, "I'm sorry, I'm just…I'm in a mood. I don't particularly like it here. Everything is so…tidy. Regimented. People are stiff and distant. It… it reminds me of growing up in the Imperial City. I hated it there."

"You get used to it, eventually."

"No, I don't think I will. I have no intention of getting used to it." Rikke was astounded by that, and she sighed, "That's not it either. I don't really mind it here. In Solitude. This house. It's…since Jarl Balgruuf called the Moot everyone is acting weird around me. Before, people came up and talked to me. Since Sovngarde it's been different, but lately even worse. At least in Riften and Windhelm it wasn't so bad."

"Well, to be honest…"

Bryn pleaded, "Please, I wish you would be." She leaned towards Rikke and went on, "You have no idea how much I loathe rigidity and formality. I can't tolerate the idea that for the rest of my life I'll be separate from everyone. I like walking through Skyrim, helping farmers pick crops and clearing out bandit caves. I like gathering flowers and mushrooms to make potions. I like poking through old crypts and finding treasure and sneaking in the shadows and picking locks. I love smithing. How can I trade all that for sitting on a throne all day, listening to people complain and try to curry favor? I don't think I can do it!"

Rikke listened to the outburst patiently, trying not to show her bewilderment. She was flattered that the Dragonborn was confiding all this in her, but then she had the feeling Bryn didn't have much trouble talking plainly to anyone. It was why the people loved her so. When it seemed the girl was done she said, "So, to be honest…the folk in Solitude, much as they revere you…they love Elisif. They want to see her crowned High Queen, but if it wasn't for her they would be behind you all the way. The people know you're better for Skyrim. They do. But…again, in the interest of honesty…" Bryn nodded for her to go on. "Your relationship with Ulfric doesn't help. Even in the holds of the Jarls who supported him."

"He isn't what everyone thinks," she said with quiet intensity. "He's a good man, I swear it. He regrets what he's done. Not all of it, but a lot of it. He made the choices he felt he had to, with what he knew at the time. He would take a lot of it back if he could."

Rikke's eyebrows rose and she haltingly said, "That…helps. It helps to know that." The housecarl came out with a tray of cheese, bread and fruit along with two mugs of mead and the bottle. "Thank you. Ah, Honningbrew. Never could stand that Black-Briar swill. I wouldn't put it past Maven to lace it with skooma to make it addictive."

"I wouldn't put anything at all past Maven."

Jordis stated, "I'll be downstairs if you need me, my thane."

Bryn nodded and the young woman made herself scarce. She said, "Maven was trying to pressure Sabjorn into selling to her. I've found her little notes in all kinds of interesting places. I have a veritable treasure trove of documentation showing just how dirty she is." She kept to herself that one of the places she had gathered information from was Maven's own house. And her hunting lodge. And Mistveil Keep.

"Yes, well, the documents you found onboard that Thalmor ship certainly helped in that regard. You have no idea just what a boon that was. There were letters and dossiers identifying both Maven and thane Erikur as having business dealings directly with the Thalmor." Bryn blinked, surprised by that. "I haven't often seen Tullius purely happy, but he was just about cackling over what you brought him." She paused then said with regret, "I hate to say it, but it also implicated Jarl Igmund. He was accepting coin directly from the Thalmor in exchange for allowing them to station Justiciars there. I know you liked him, but…"

"Oh," she murmured in disappointment. She nearly asked if Rikke was sure, but of course she was.

"Maven has been put on notice that she's being watched. Asgeir Snow-Shod has been notified of her dealings and is taking a more active role in the running of the meadery, though it isn't easy for him now that he's married to Vittoria Vici and living here most of the time. I have my doubts about some of Vittoria's dealings as well, but she's the Emperor's cousin so she's untouchable." She handed one of the mugs to Bryn, who nodded her thanks. "You get used to the backroom dealings after a while. You learn what to ignore and what to crack down on. How to pick your battles."

"I don't know if I can do that. I don't pick my battles. I just…"

"Win them?" Bryn shrugged one shoulder and sipped her mead. "This is different. Politics are different, even here in Skyrim. We are more direct up here, but there is still that element to it. Just be glad you aren't a Breton living in High Rock. I don't know how those people sleep at night." She fixed a piece of bread with cheese and offered it to Bryn, who shook her head. She took a bite herself and chewed it slowly, giving the girl a chance to speak, her fair brow furrowed.

"Will I be allowed to marry Ulfric?" Rikke nearly choked on her food. "I suppose that's a no, then," Bryn whispered.

"No, it isn't a…well, not final, it's just…" She grimaced and asked, "Really? You really want to do that?"

"I love him." Rikke waited, frowning deeply. "He's flawed, yes, but not beyond help. If you had any idea what those monsters did to him…whatever you might imagine they did, the reality was worse. That he is able to love me the way he does is a testament to his strength. Neither of us wanted this to happen, but it did."

"He's old enough to be your father," Rikke said in a gentle tone, deeply saddened. _Ulfric, my old friend,_ she thought with sorrow. _What did they do to you?_ She never really had known. She couldn't imagine what it must have done to the old Bear of Eastmarch, Ulfric's father Fjonnar, to see what had been done to his son, his only child. He had probably died of grief when Ulfric had ended up in Imperial custody after the Markarth Incident, unable to contemplate anything else happening to him. Fjonnar had been a warm, expressive man, deeply loved by his people, but fierce; it had to have made him feel helpless in his rage over the atrocities that had been perpetrated on Ulfric by the Thalmor.

"Yes, we're both aware of that," she replied testily. "He's told me multiple times to leave him for a man my age. He's more than willing to give me up for my own happiness, but…he makes me happy. He helped me accept what I am. He was the one who put me back together after Sovngarde. He told me himself that it would be wrong to marry me if I became Queen, because of the possible backlash. Well if the people of Skyrim are so petty that they would deny me happiness after everything I've done for them, they can go fuck themselves." Rikke blew out a long breath, her eyebrows raised. "I mean it. I've fought and bled for this damn country as much as any Legionnaire has, and if I can't finally get a husband and children out of it then I won't take the position. I'll still fight the Thalmor when it's time, but nothing more."

After a moment Rikke softly said, "If the Jarls and the people of Skyrim put conditions on you, then you would be within your rights, Dragonborn. At the Moot, tell them that. Let them choose you, then make that stipulation, that you make your own choices and do things your own way. If they can't live with that, then walk away and go marry Ulfric and be the Lady of Eastmarch. Do what makes you happy. You have sure as hell earned it." Bryn suddenly beamed at her, and it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

"Oh Rikke, you have no idea how much that means to me," she gushed, reaching out to put her hand on the older woman's arm. "I wish you would give Ulfric another chance. Get to know him again, and not as adversaries."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to. Which brings me to my original reason for coming here."

"Really," Bryn said in surprise, sitting back. "How so?"

"I told Tullius that I'm retiring from the Legion. To serve you, in your new capacity as High Queen."

She stammered, "Y-you would do that? Give up your career?"

"To start a new one. I'm not cut out to be a General. Most aren't. Most Legionnaires do retire in their fifties, and I'm fifty-two. A still hearty fifty-two, but I'm ready to come back home to Skyrim. I want to be part of making her whole again. I feel the best place for me to do that is at your side, as your senior advisor and chamberlain. If you'll have me."

"Absolutely," she whispered, her eyes shining. She put her hand on Rikke's arm again and the older woman laid her hand over it, smiling with eyes that threatened to grow damp. She added, "And what's funny is…I don't even know what a chamberlain is."

Rikke laughed, "Something like a steward."

"All right." Bryn brightened further and said, "In fact there's something you can help me with right away. Come on."

Rikke let the girl take her hand and lead her upstairs, and she went along readily, her heart singing. In her mind there was no doubt that Bryn would become Queen. It seemed inevitable. All that was needed was an overwhelming majority, so any possible holdouts like Elisif or Maven would be overridden. Ulfric's people would vote as he did; Balgruuf favored Bryn heavily; Idgrod liked the girl, but maybe it was just her supposed 'visions' telling her that Bryn was meant to be Queen. Maven would probably vote for Bryn under pressure from Tullius (in other words, blackmail). Elisif was the only Jarl with any likelihood of voting against Bryn, and Rikke knew that Tullius had been having regular meetings with the girl over the last few weeks. He had a great deal of influence with Elisif. Rikke just hoped Elisif's hatred of Ulfric wasn't so overpowering that she was unable to be swayed by that influence.

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**A/N: Thanks so much to all the recent Faves/Follows. It really means a lot to me, and the reviews are appreciated. **

**I do respond by PM to everyone who leaves one; I just don't like long author's notes.**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: Another long chapter, since this string of events didn't have any breaks in it.**

**Ah, the Bards...I had such high hopes for this faction's quests, and ended up sadly disappointed. I tried to give them a bigger role here, in order to provide a bit more grandeur to the Moot, which I still feel is missing something, but I did the best I could. Though I realize that Skyrim's Bards were based on the skalds of the Scandinavians and the bards of the Celts, I have to say that my entire view of bards was shaped by Anne McCaffrey's Harpers, from her world of Pern. I spent my entire teens and twenties immersed in that world, and to me that is forever what a formally taught bard should be...entertainer, historian, teacher, and sometimes kingmaker. I wish I could have done more with them in this story.**

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"It is an awesome sight, isn't it?"

Vilkas glanced over his shoulder at Jarl Balgruuf then nodded and turned back to the battlements. "Aye, my lord, it is," he said quietly. The tents and banners of eight holds were arrayed on the plains below Dragonsreach, each with just enough troops to be polite, except for poor Winterhold; Jarl Korir's tent was threadbare, his banners tattered, and he had but a handful of guards. Ulfric's camp was on the end farthest to the right, his blue bear as far removed from Solitude's red wolf as possible. From up here little detail could be made out, but all looked peaceful. It didn't hurt that Balgruuf had hired the Companions to patrol the area. All of them were out there except Aela, even Farkas and Vignar, though the elderly man was staying closer to the city gates. The Companions were traditionally neutral, not involving themselves in wars or politics; this was edging uncomfortably close to doing just that. Only the fact that Balgruuf had established Whiterun as neutral territory had made Vilkas agree to it, and even then there had been grumbling in the ranks. He had left it up to each Companion to make their own choice, to decide for themselves whether it was honorable, and of course coin had won out in the end. It usually did.

As the Jarl came up next to him Vilkas asked, "So…is she going to ride in on a dragon?"

Balgruuf laughed loudly at that. "While that would be guaranteed to impress…by Akatosh I hope not. Most exhilarating day of my life, that was, and I hope to never see a dragon on the Great Porch ever again." He sighed and leaned on the battlement. "Honestly, I don't know how she'll be arriving, or from where. I imagine she won't be with any given Jarl's party, to avoid the appearance of favoritism. Lots of rumors flying around the last month. I'm sure you've heard some of them."

"Aye." Foremost that Legate Rikke had resigned her commission with the Imperial Legion to attach herself to Bryn's service. That would make it rather hard to ride Odahviing to the Moot; Vilkas doubted the dragon would submit to that, though it was possible Rikke would stay behind. The other rumor was that the Bard's College had asked to attend, both to witness the historic event and perform. The _entire_ College. Usually at least one Bard attended any given Moot, in their capacity as not only entertainers but historians. This request had been unusual in that most of the Bards were planning to attend and put on a large scale performance that they had been working on for some time, to the point of recalling all the bards in Skyrim back to the College to prepare for it. It was all rather exciting, or it would be if he wasn't sick with dread over seeing Bryn again.

"She'll be staying here at Dragonsreach, when she does arrive." He patted Vilkas on the back, saying with sympathy, "I don't doubt this will be uncomfortable, but…I wasn't really thinking of that when I called the Moot. Sorry."

Vilkas snorted and replied, "You are a better Jarl than to let crossed stars keep you from doing what is right." Over the last few months, since becoming Harbinger, Vilkas had started taking lunch or dinner with Balgruuf every so often, and it had made him come to admire the Jarl of Whiterun a great deal, and forged what he liked to think was a friendship, if a casual one. They mostly avoided one touchy area, after getting it out of the way at their first lunch. That had been painful indeed, but he'd had to do it, and to his credit Balgruuf had seen both sides of the problem between Vilkas and Bryn, and it had been a relief to talk to a man who would listen and not instantly leap to Bryn's defense. Someone who wasn't Farkas, in other words.

"Crossed stars," Balgruuf murmured. "Ah, is there no greater tale than that of ill-fated lovers? I should warn you, with all the Bards about you had best keep a low profile, eh Harbinger?"

Vilkas couldn't help laughing quietly at that, his face growing warm. "I'll do my best not to attract any unwanted attention, my Jarl." He supposed he was behaving in a rather self-absorbed manner. It wasn't as if he was going to sit around mooning over Bryn or glowering at Ulfric. He hoped. Who was he kidding; of course he was going to do both those things, no matter how he tried not to. He had one of those faces that hid absolutely nothing.

"Well, a man like you doesn't have much choice in that, especially when you walk around in armor like this," the Jarl said in admiration. He rapped his knuckles on the ebony pauldron, chased with gold. "Magnificent. It's old Kodlak's, isn't it?"

"Aye. He left it to me when he passed. I didn't feel worthy of wearing it, but…I decided that if I waited until I did, I might never wear it." That was close enough to the truth.

"I distantly remember seeing him in it, when I was a boy. My brother and I used to sneak out of Dragonsreach and sit on the walls, to look down and watch the Companions train, and oft times there was Kodlak in this gleaming ebony, looking like one of the knights of old Cyrodiil. Then Hrongar and I would get out our wooden swords and proceed to beat the tar out of each other, arguing the whole time about who was the Companion and who the bandit. Good memories."

Vilkas hesitated then said, "Farkas tells me that Bryn said she saw Kodlak in Sovngarde. She said that Ysgramor himself greeted her at the doors of the Hall of Valor."

"Is that so?" he replied in wonder. "What a tale that would be to tell. I'm glad you mentioned this, Harbinger. I've been considering asking her to relate some of her accomplishments before the Jarls, just to drive home to them that she is our only real choice. I want to believe that no one is stupid or selfish enough to make this difficult, but you never know. The War of Succession was fought because of stupid, selfish Jarls who refused to crown Hanse of Winterhold."

"She is no Hanse of Winterhold."

"Oh, aye, aye, that goes without saying. I'm not too worried. Any Jarl that votes against her will end up looking like an idiot. She's the damn Dragonborn. One does not refuse to crown the Dragonborn. They are born to be Kings and Queens, and more." He shivered slightly and rubbed his hands together. "Such a strange feeling, to feel history forming around us and the old prophecies unfolding before our eyes! I never would have dreamed that day that the skinny, doe-eyed girl in front of me was destined to change the world. I feared the lass wouldn't survive a week in Skyrim, and then a few days later I'm hearing my men whispering, 'Dragonborn!'" He saw Vilkas frown as he folded his arms. "Ah, sorry. This isn't helping, I'm sure."

"No, it isn't that. Just…remembering. The day she came to Jorrvaskr. I know now that Kodlak had dreamt of her, a gift that supposedly ran in his family according to Tilma, but at the time I was so…_offended_ that someone like her would try to join us. I thought he was getting soft in his old age and he felt sorry for her. He had me take her into the yard and as much as I hated to admit it, she had promise. I kept waiting for her to wash out, even after it became known she was Dragonborn. I have to confess that until I sat there and watched the Greybeards Shout at her that some part of me refused to believe what she was."

"It didn't really come home to me until I heard her Shout for Odahviing. Just about knocked me out of my damn boots, let me tell you." He paused then said in a sad tone, "And now the lass can't even speak without the _thu'um_, as if she were a Greybeard herself. Or a dragon." He made a sound of annoyance. "I don't like Ulfric. I never have, since we were young men, and I like him even less since finding out he was planning to take my city out from under me. But if it's true that he was the one who made the Dragonborn finally accept what she was, without fear or embarrassment, then he has done us all a service. Girl can't be Queen if she's ashamed to even open her mouth." Vilkas was completely silent, staring at the tents below, and Balgruuf was sure it was the tents of Eastmarch he was staring at. He quietly said, "It's Elisif I worry about. She has good reason to hate Ulfric's guts, and now I hear she despises Bryn by association. Grief…well, it does things to people. I know that all too well. I lost Nelkir's mother in childbirth, just…one of those things that happen all too often. But to look across the table at the person who killed your husband? And she won't have Tullius here to keep her in hand, either. No, we aren't going to get through this day without some kind of ugliness, Harbinger, mark my words."

"Aye, my Jarl."

"Jarl Balgruuf!" The two men looked up at Proventus' call. "My lord, the first of the delegates has arrived. Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone of Hjaalmarch."

"Interesting," Balgruuf murmured. "She's a bit early." The Moot was set to begin at noon, and it was a little past eleven.

"Typical old people, eh?" Vilkas murmured back, making Balgruuf laugh and slap him on the back then walk away to meet his steward. Vilkas stayed where he was, seeing movement below among the different camps. No doubt word had spread that Idgrod had already entered the city and gone up to Dragonsreach, and at a reasonable pace it would take at least half an hour for all the Jarls and their housecarls to make their way up here. He nearly turned away when he saw two figures emerge from the main Eastmarch tent, obviously Ulfric and his housecarl Galmar even at this distance.

He watched the dark blond head until it disappeared out of sight around the bend of the hill, and he stood up from the battlement and took a deep breath, feeling sweat trickling down his back beneath the ebony armor. It was going to make him ill to look at the man and know that he was Bryn's lover. He wasn't sure how he was going to manage it. He had to keep reminding himself that it wasn't Ulfric's fault, and even if it was, it wasn't wrong. Ulfric had done what any sane man would. It wasn't as if Ulfric had taken her from Vilkas. It was Vilkas who had pursued her, even knowing what she had come to Skyrim for, and after she had hung in there and invested a year of her life into the relationship he had refused to marry her. He knew how much it had hurt her, because she had hurt him every bit as much by turning around and leaving him. So they were equal. Fine. He would do his best to keep that in mind, and he would shake Ulfric's hand when he greeted him, because he knew he was expected to meet all the Jarls now as Harbinger. It was his responsibility to foster relations with all of them, to keep the jobs coming in, something that in hindsight it didn't seem Kodlak had done enough of. For the sake of the Companions and their honor, and his own personal honor, he had to do this, and with some goddamn dignity as Farkas would say.

Half an hour later it was beginning to rain, and he forced himself to go inside. He had stayed out there brooding on the Great Porch half hoping he would see Bryn ride in on Odahviing. He supposed that would be a bit over the top, even for a gathering like this. Vilkas imagined the dragon wouldn't enjoy being used as a horse, especially when so few were out here to see it and feed his ego.

He went inside the palace and heard the hum of conversation, and after nodding to the guard he went downstairs. The main hall was full of well-dressed Jarls and their entourages, housecarls, and spouses if they had them. No children were present, even Jarl Balgruuf's. Vilkas stayed in the doorway and took everything in, looking for Bryn, and didn't see her, and as tall and fair as she was she would be impossible to miss. He saw Jarl Skald the Elder off to the side with Ulfric, who had a look of forbearance on his face as he listened to the old man rattle on about something. Vilkas felt a hot flush of jealousy go through him as he watched the older man, who stood with his arms folded and had an easy air of authority and power about him that Vilkas knew he himself did not. He knew he attracted attention wherever he went, and he was respected, but it wasn't the same at all. Ulfric had commanded troops in the Legion when he was still a very young man. He had been Jarl for twenty years now. Ulfric was the most controversial and infamous man in Skryim, maybe in the Empire. Of course Bryn was attracted to that.

Ulfric rolled his eyes and looked away from Skald, and Vilkas felt a pang of anxiety when Ulfric's gaze landed on him. The two men stared at each other, and Vilkas was determined that he was not going to be the one to look away first. That tactic backfired when Ulfric held his hand up to Skald then excused himself and headed Vilkas' way. _Ah shit!_ he thought in a panic, feeling sick with nerves. This was not at all what he had wanted or intended. Not one bit. He would rather battle a dragon alone than be confronted by the Bear of Markarth. He couldn't imagine what the hell Ulfric wanted with him. He had planned to introduce himself briefly at some point, because he had to, but Ulfric wasn't the very first Jarl he wanted to talk to, and not in this manner.

Ulfric snorted a laugh to himself at the poorly-hidden worry on the younger man's face. He couldn't really blame him for it, either. He stopped a few feet away and looked Vilkas over, unable to help admiring the imposing figure he presented. Tall, dark and handsome, dressed in a Jarl's ransom of vintage, gold-chased ebony. Bryn was going to feel a knife in her heart when she saw him. He had his own suit of ebony armor in the works, something he had commissioned from Oengul months ago when he had still hoped to be King, but he knew with complete honesty that he wouldn't look like that in it. He said to him in a wry tone, "Forgive me, Harbinger, but you provided an easy excuse to get away from a pompous windbag." Taken aback, Vilkas laughed shortly. Ulfric held out his hand, and Vilkas stared at him for a moment then slowly took it.

"Pleased to meet you, Jarl Ulfric," he said with difficulty, letting go as soon as was polite. It made him ill to shake a hand that had been on Bryn. To look at a mouth that had kissed and tasted her, though how Ulfric managed to do so with that enormous beak of his in the way was beyond Vilkas. He couldn't even imagine why Ulfric would come over here of his own volition other than to gloat.

Seeing the sudden animosity in the other man's eyes, Ulfric murmured, "Are you?" Vilkas' eyes widened slightly but he refrained from answering, though the corner of his upper lip twitched as if he was fighting not to sneer. Ulfric said in a wary tone, "I only intended to make your acquaintance. If there is a problem, I would ask that you make me aware of it now, quickly, before the Moot begins. Brynhilde doesn't need to see you burning holes into me or her when she arrives."

"I…this is…I do _not_ want to talk about it. My lord." It horrified him that the man was just coming out and saying it. Now. In front of all the other Jarls. When Bryn might walk in any moment.

"I am a very direct man, and I would rather know what I am dealing with. There should no ill feeling on either of our parts, Harbinger. Neither of us has caused the other harm." Vilkas stared at him for a moment then blinked and nodded curtly as he looked away. "Say whatever it is you want to say and I will not judge you for it. There will be great need for you Companions when the new war against the Dominion begins and most of our forces are pulled from Skyrim. Someone must be here to defend the common folk and keep the lawless from overrunning the country. I would not have my hold go defenseless because you resent me for some reason." It was extremely annoying that the Companion was giving him attitude when he had done nothing wrong and Vilkas was the one who had rejected Bryn multiple times. He had no right at all to glare at anyone but the man in the mirror.

Offended, Vilkas looked at him again and said in a disbelieving voice, "I would never allow such a thing to happen. The Companions' honor, my own honor, would never allow it." His eyes narrowed and he went on, "I don't deserve your doubt, Jarl Ulfric. I have not behaved dishonorably, or cowardly. I don't know what she's told you—"

"That is where you can stop," Ulfric said in warning.

"You told me I can say whatever it is I want to say without censure. I'm telling you that my honor is unstained. I may have behaved like a fool, but I didn't willingly wound her. I tried to mend things with her up until the moment she flew away on that dragon, and she turned herself from me. Whatever drove her to you after Sovngarde was not my doing."

"Or your lack of doing?" Vilkas' jaw clenched as he suddenly looked furious, and Ulfric shrugged and folded his arms. "You started this, Companion. I came to you in good faith, and you glared at me, as if I had done something wrong. I tell you I have not. I told her to leave me, if it is any consolation to you, and who knows if it is. I told her she would be better off with someone her own age, not mine or yours, and she refused to hear of it." Vilkas looked away, clenching his fists inside the ebony gauntlets as if he wanted to punch the Jarl, his pale eyes burning with anger. Ulfric shook his head and said in confusion, "I don't understand where your bitterness comes from. You had the chance to make things right. She begged your forgiveness and asked you one more time to marry her, to join her in Riften, and you left her with nothing but silence."

Vilkas scoffed, "Is that what she told you? All her praying endlessly to Mara, is that it? I'm sorry but Mara didn't tell me. If Bryn had spoken to me one more time I would have tried to make things right. If she had given me any sign at all I would have gone to her. I was the one left in silence, not her!" Ulfric frowned deeply and chewed at his bottom lip, looking troubled, and Vilkas made a sound of aggravation and continued, "I have no ill will towards you, Jarl Ulfric. You've been caught in the middle of whatever it is she—"

"She sent you a letter."

A flush of icy cold ran through Vilkas as he whispered, "W-what?"

Ulfric sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a terrible dread. "You didn't receive it, then." The younger man looked so pale Ulfric feared he was going to pass out, his breathing rapid and shallow. "She told me she sent you a letter, a couple weeks after she had been in Riften. She sent it along with a letter to your brother and his wife." Vilkas slowly shook his head, his eyes shining as he blinked rapidly. Grieved, Ulfric muttered, "Ah, shit. Gods, I am sorry. This...she should know this. She needs to know." Vilkas swallowed then slowly shook his head again in refusal. Ulfric moved closer to him and whispered, "Mara's sake, man, you have to tell her!"

"No."

"Then I will!"

Vilkas caught his arm, though Ulfric hadn't moved. "Don't. Don't tell her." _Ah love,_ he thought with grief and fresh loss. It seemed to never end, the punishments Mara heaped upon him. So Bryn had wanted him back and sent for him after all, and somehow it hadn't made it to him, and so of course she thought that was his answer: nothing. He could imagine quite well how it had cut her to the bone, waiting day after day, week after week, with not even the courtesy of a no from him. Farkas and Lydia had gotten their letter, and written her back, so she'd had every reason to believe he had received his and decided to ignore her. She had waited and waited until she couldn't bear the waiting any longer, and had moved on to Ulfric, who had undoubtedly welcomed her with open arms.

"And let her continue to think you rejected her, again? Why would you let her think that?" Vilkas' adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed convulsively, taking his hand away. "You speak of your honor… well mine is tarnished and bloody, but I cannot stomach the thought of taking my happiness at the expense of another's."

"And neither can I."

"Look, that is thoughtful of you, but—"

"Not you, her. My Jarl." He cleared his throat and asked, "What do you think it would do to her, to find out now? What do you think it would do to her to have to make a choice between us?"

"Still, the choice is hers to make."

"Not if she doesn't know."

Ulfric shook his head. "No. I will not live a lie. I've done many terrible things in my life, but lying isn't one of them."

"Which of us do you think she would choose at this point?" Ulfric didn't answer, which was answer enough. "I see," he whispered. Well, he had expected as much. Of course Bryn loved Ulfric. But then he had known that when he had decided to leave her ignorant of the letter.

The Jarl said with difficulty, "I cannot say it would be me, in fact I fear it would not be, but… she does not enter into things lightly. I told her she was wasted on me. I told her I was too old for her, too damaged. Everything I said she simply…deflected. And yet, there is no way she could love me as she loved you. You were together a year."

"A year that she waited, and waited, and prayed for a day that never came. A year that we fought and wounded each other time and again." Vilkas paused then asked, "Do you love her?" Ulfric sighed, looking pained. "Would you marry her?"

"Yes, and yes. I would have asked her already, if she weren't destined to be High Queen." The thought of her going back to Vilkas was unbearable. He wanted to believe she would choose him, but looking at Vilkas it was hard to see why she would. He repeated, "I will not live a lie."

"It wouldn't be a lie. Simply not saying anything is not a lie."

"It is much too close to one."

"Does she hate me?"

"No," he answered firmly. "Absolutely she does not. That I can guarantee." There was no way he was going to tell the man that Ulfric had sometimes caught Bryn staring into space with a sorrowful look on her face, her thoughts obvious. And then she had always turned to Ulfric with a smile and open arms.

"I can live with that."

"I can't!" He grabbed Vilkas by the shoulders and gave him a shake, saying intently, "I will step aside. How will I live the rest of my life knowing that she was with me only because of a mistake? A lost letter?" He honestly couldn't fathom how the letter had gotten lost; the couriers were nearly faultless at their jobs, and Vilkas' brother had received his. He didn't see how it was possible that Vilkas hadn't received the letter, but he knew the younger man was being truthful. His reaction was one that couldn't be faked.

"No."

Ulfric pleaded, "No Vilkas, I can't."

"Neither can I, and honestly…I can't say she would choose me at this point either." That Ulfric had so readily offered to step aside, for the sake of Bryn's happiness, told him enough about Ulfric's devotion to her. Vilkas had caused Bryn pain; Ulfric hadn't. Ulfric was willing to marry her, even after such a short time together. There was a small commotion near the front of the hall and cries of "Hail, Dragonborn!" rang through the space. Vilkas and Ulfric stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, then Ulfric shook his head again.

"Don't put me in this position, Harbinger," he demanded. "She would hate me if she ever found out."

"There's no reason she ever should, because I'm not telling anyone. No, just leave her in peace. It's enough to know it was…just a mistake."

"How can you say that!"

"She's already gotten over the worst of the hurt. Do you want to be the one to reopen that wound?" Ulfric grimaced, torn. "Tell me one thing. What does _ahmul_ mean?" Ulfric drew in a sharp breath then yanked his hands back. "The dragon asked her if I was _ahmul_, and she told him _'Zu'u lost nid ahmul'_. What does that mean?"

"Husband," Ulfric murmured in sorrow. "It means 'I have no husband'."

Vilkas laughed faintly. "Of course it does. That makes perfect sense, doesn't it." The dragon had asked if Vilkas was her husband and she had said no, she had no husband, and so she wasn't coming back. And yet she was here today. Right now. But only because she had little choice.

"By the Nine, you have to tell her," Ulfric whispered. His presence was going to be missed, and quickly. He could hear the greetings growing nearer, and the thought that Bryn might see them talking to each other made him feel panicked. He was not a man that panicked. He refused to lie to her. He wouldn't know what to tell her.

"No." He paused then added, "Would you walk up to her with me, and see who she looks to for reassurance? Who she trusts more?"

"It would only be because she doesn't know the truth." Vilkas looked at him as if he knew that wasn't entirely true. Yes, Bryn would look between the two men she loved and wonder why they were talking to each other, then she would look to Ulfric for an explanation, and comfort afterward. She looked to Ulfric in ways she most likely had not with the Companion, and like it or not maybe it was partly a product of his age. It probably was a result of Ulfric baring his soul to her in ways Vilkas hadn't wanted to. Ulfric had no pride when it came to Bryn. None. Vilkas…well, Ulfric supposed if he looked like that he would be a little proud and vain too. Looking at the man drove home to him just how much Bryn must love him if she was with him after sharing a bed with someone like that for the last year. They must have been beautiful together. The thought made him want to weep for them both.

Seeing Ulfric waver, Vilkas said, "Marry her and give her a baby, and don't let anything stop you."

"A little thing like the war will stop me. I can't risk her being with child when war breaks out, and I can't say when it will." Granted, a woman had final say in when she conceived, but he had to trust that Bryn had that secret woman's way of preventing conception and would continue to use it until the war was over, whenever that would be. If she became pregnant it might make her hesitant in battle, and it would make Ulfric fear to leave her side, rendering them both ineffective. If she was heavily pregnant it would completely destroy their chances; she would still be able to use the _thu'um_ as far as he knew but her ability to fight would be seriously compromised.

"Fine, put off the child, but marry her. At least with you she'll never have doubts. Even if she came back to me she would always have doubt in the back of her mind. She's always doubted me, and with good cause." Ulfric grumbled and Vilkas could tell he was weakening. "I've caused her enough pain. No more."

"All right, all right," Ulfric muttered. It made him writhe with guilt, but at the same time he couldn't help feeling an illicit thrill that Bryn would be his and there would never be any danger of Vilkas wandering back into the picture. He had to have her and that was it, and selfless or not he couldn't help thinking Vilkas a fool for once again letting her go. Ulfric wouldn't have in the same situation. He sighed, "Mara help me, I'm going to regret this. I suppose I should be glad I have so many regrets that this might get lost in amongst them."

"I meant what I told her: when the fighting starts I will be there."

Ulfric nodded and gave him a brief smile then offered his hand again, and Vilkas hesitated then accepted it. He felt Vilkas' grip suddenly tighten, along with his expression, and he muttered, "She's there, isn't she." Vilkas made a sound of assent and let go.

"I wish you both well," he mumbled, then he turned and went back up the stairs to gather himself. He had gotten only a glimpse of her hair but it had been enough. He couldn't bear to see her again when everyone was watching. He retreated to a balcony, seeing various dignitaries from all the holds on either side, there to observe the Moot, and he stayed in the shadows to look down at the gathering below. He saw Bryn go to Ulfric, a worried look on her face, and realized she had seen Vilkas retreating upstairs. He saw Ulfric's fingers twitch as if he was resisting the urge to touch her, to comfort her, and the look of adoration on the older man's face as he gazed at her reassured Vilkas that he was doing the right thing, for her at least. She motioned towards the stairs and Ulfric shook his head and made a motion of unconcern, sending mixed relief and grief through Vilkas. Well, that was good. Good for Bryn. Good for Ulfric. Vilkas wasn't sure what was good for him, but this certainly wasn't. He would just keep going the way he was, looking after the Companions and watching their family grow, first with Aela's daughter then whatever children Farkas and Lydia had. He'd be damned if he touched another woman anytime soon after this, and if he did it would have as much significance to him as eating or sleeping. Just another physical need to be met. He was never letting this happen again.

He saw Bryn look up and scan the balcony to her right, then she turned and looked at the one to her left, and when she saw him standing there he froze, feeling a surge of anguish. She looked so regal, in her dragonscale armor overlaid with a cloak of snowy sabre cat fur, with the diamond and ruby dragonbone circlet around her fair head, her pale blond hair loose, the Jagged Crown tucked under her arm. A true Queen of Skyrim. How far she had come from the emotionally fragile child she had been a little over a year ago who crumbled at every harsh word, too many of them his own. He stared back, knowing she could only see that he was there, not his eyes or expression, and Ulfric said something that startled her and made her look at him. She then looked back up at Vilkas and nodded, giving him a brief, pain-filled smile she had to know he would see, then she turned away and waded back into the crowd with Ulfric at her side. The urge to start bawling nearly overcame him, but Vilkas instead tore his eyes away from following her and went back out onto the Great Porch, hoping the cold might seep into his soul a bit and give him some relief, and knowing it wouldn't.

_I wish you both well,_ Bryn thought sadly as she went to find Jarl Balgruuf. That had been thoughtful of Vilkas to say, and clearly it had affected Ulfric deeply. She glanced back up at the balcony and Vilkas was gone, and it made her heart ache with grief. They had certainly done a good job of wounding each other. It was a relief to know that they could move past it, though she had no idea how long it would take for her. She hadn't expected he would be the one to take the high road, but if he had she could too. She had to. It was one less thing to worry about today. And that had been good of Ulfric to approach Vilkas. Men sometimes had a way of working things out that women couldn't. Elisif being a case in point. She had refused to meet with Bryn in Solitude and would most likely refuse to talk to her now.

She found Balgruuf talking to Jarl Korir and bowed slightly to both men. Balgruuf embraced her, saying in a rough voice, "Ah, my friend, I'm so glad you're here. I knew you were all right, but…when the last thing you see of a person is them riding off on a dragon, you worry."

"I'm all right, my Jarl," she stated as he let her go. "Permanently changed, but all right."

Balgruuf waved off her concerns. "You are Dragonborn, and that is all that needs to be said about that." His blue eyes lit up when he saw the Jagged Crown. She held it out to him and as he took it he breathed, "Ah, to think this graced the brow of every King and Queen of Ysgramor's line!"

"It's hideous," she stated, making him laugh and Jarl Korir next to him gasp in offense. She noted that Korir had the Helm of Winterhold under his own arm, the helm she had fetched for him, and it was only slightly less ugly than the Crown. She hated helmets. They looked good on men sometimes but she'd be damned if she wore one unless she absolutely had to.

Balgruuf nodded to Ulfric and muttered, "Jarl Ulfric."

"Jarl Balgruuf," he replied. He nodded to Korir and said, "Jarl Korir. I hope your family is doing well."

"As well as can be expected, considering where we live," Korir replied. He looked at Bryn and went on, "If this works out the way we all think it will, what do you plan on doing about my wreck of a city?"

"I have put thought into it," Bryn admitted, "but you may not like those thoughts, Jarl Korir."

"If it has to do with those damn mages again, forget it! I won't let them finish us off!"

"And I tell you again, they did _not_ cause the Collapse, my Jarl. I have asked you many times, with all due respect, just what they would gain from such a thing? The loss of the city where they get all their food, their supplies, where visitors to the College pass through and spend their coin?" The redheaded Jarl simmered, and she went on, "I have tales to tell the Moot, when it's time. Tales of my time in Sovngarde. I assure you, the Hall of Valor was full of mages. Tsun himself spoke of magic as 'the clever craft' and said that in Shor's Hall they had never forgotten their respect for it."

Korir made a face and muttered, "You're joking."

Ulfric stated, "One does not joke about Sovngarde."

Korir looked a little ill, and Bryn went on, "Every hold's economy is based on a commodity. The Reach has silver, Falkreath lumber, Whiterun farming and ivory, and so on. Unfortunately all Winterhold has is the College. I've spent time up there and I found them to be very friendly, open folk. Their library is without peer anywhere in Skyrim, in fact on my way here with the Bards several of them spoke of wanting to visit and exchange knowledge. The mages would be more willing to spend their coin in the city of Winterhold if it was a bit more welcoming to them, but they don't want to impose or make people uncomfortable."

"Even if they were so inclined, there is no city!"

"So build a new one." Korir sighed heavily. "Tear down the damaged houses and build new ones. Build more houses and shops along the road leading into the city, to attract merchants and tradesmen. Build a grand stairway down to the water's edge, and build more buildings down there. We can't change the past. We can't make it so the Great Collapse didn't happen. The College is not going away. We need the knowledge they safeguard, and we need their enchanting services. Magic is nothing but a tool."

"But…they know why the Great Collapse happened."

"They have a good idea, but that is all. The eruption of Red Mountain."

"Bah, I've heard that before. The Collapse happened a century after that! And why was only the College saved?"

"Because it was founded on a column of solid bedrock…nothing but luck. The bulk of Winterhold was built on loose ground. The part of Winterhold that survived is closer to the mountains." There was more to it than that, that being the protective magics that the College was steeped in, but he didn't need reminding of that. Brynhilde moved closer to Korir and laid her hand on his shoulder, saying, "My lord, I promise you that I would give as much attention to the issues facing Winterhold as I would any other hold. Winterhold has a proud history that should not be forgotten, and I don't believe its days of making history are over."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Korir vowed. He just wasn't sure if he was willing to pay the price the Dragonborn was asking. He knew his wife wouldn't be, but then she wasn't the Jarl, even if she acted like it. He inclined his head to her and walked away to get a drink.

Balgruuf quietly said, "I hate to tell you this my friend, but Winterhold may be a lost cause." Not because Bryn's ideas weren't any good, but because the folk there, and their Jarl, had given up hope. The distrust of the mages was also ingrained too deeply.

"I don't believe in lost causes," she stated.

"Good thing for you, eh?" he said to Ulfric, who stared at him for a long moment then smiled, more to be polite than anything else. He had vowed to himself that he wouldn't confront Ulfric about nearly attacking his city, but he couldn't help needling him a bit.

Ulfric said, "I don't believe in lost causes either, Balgruuf. There are many ways to achieve a thing. I want peace in Skyrim and the Thalmor out of our affairs. If someone showed me another way to get those things, I have no complaints. I…" He trailed off as someone came over to stand next to Bryn, and he stared at her for a long moment then laughed quietly, sadly. "Ah, Rikke…" His one-time friend was dressed as a Nord woman of some standing, though in pants instead of a dress, with an Amulet of Talos worn proudly about her throat. Quite the departure indeed from the Imperial armor she had worn her entire adult life.

"Jarl Ulfric," she replied, bowing slightly.

"I'll have none of that." Rikke stiffened as Ulfric swept her into a hug, then she let out a shuddering sigh and embraced him back. He held her for a few moments then put her out at arm's length, saying in a rough voice, "It would have killed something in me and Galmar to face you on the battlefield, old friend. I am glad… well, I am glad." He flicked the amulet and added, "It makes me happy to see you wearing this. I am seeing it more and more these days, and it fills me with hope."

"I am a daughter of Skyrim, first and foremost," she said as he let her go, trying not entirely successfully to keep a catch out of her voice. She pulled her eyes away from him, not yet ready to talk to him. He seemed genuinely happy to see her, and it hurt. She couldn't look at him yet and not see a traitor. A usurper and murderer. Or the serious yet sweet young man he had been before the Thalmor got their claws into him. She looked at Bryn and said, "My lady, is there anything you need?"

"Oh no," Bryn said with a shake of her head. Rikke lifted an eyebrow, and she said, "Oh, all right. I am a little hot in this thing, and maybe some water. I'm sick of mead after traveling with those Bards." Rikke unclasped the cloak and put it over her arm then went to Proventus to find where Bryn would be sitting.

Balgruuf said in excitement, "Yes, those Bards. What are they up to? Your house in Solitude is right next door to them, yeah?"

"Yes, but they've been incredibly sneaky about the whole thing. If they've been practicing downstairs no one can hear what they're doing. For having such big mouths they can be incredibly tight-lipped when they want to be. Oh, it was fun traveling with them though. Music and singing around the fires every night, and ugh, too much mead and ale. After my third morning hung over that was it." Both Jarls laughed at the face she made. "You should have seen Rikke though, belting out songs with them like a Bard herself. She's been so happy lately."

"Because she is home," Ulfric stated. "She is a true daughter of Skyrim, as she said." He remembered that fondly about her, in their youth, how she had danced around the campfires and sung, and had never gone to bed alone, one of the greatest beauties of the Legion. Ulfric himself had never bedded her, though Galmar had once. Rikke had rarely taken a man to bed more than once. There had just been too many fish in that sea.

"Yes, more of one than I am. She's been a huge help to me. So many things I didn't know, about Skyrim and the Empire, the politics... She sees things from both sides, in ways I simply can't, and…" She sighed and added, "I wonder sometimes if my mother was like her. She was able to get a little information on her for me, things my aunt either hid from me or wouldn't tell me." It wasn't much, and it wasn't enough to satisfy, but at least it was something.

Balgruuf said sadly, "Ah, my friend, I am glad of that. Better late than never."

"She says that Legate Fasendil might have known my father, though there was a big age gap there. I'll have to talk to him when I get the chance." She looked around for Rikke and saw that she had gotten waylaid by Skald.

Ulfric made a sound of annoyance, and Balgruuf quietly asked, "Is he causing problems?"

"Yes, he is," Ulfric stated. "He isn't pleased that I have lost interest in being High King. He thinks I should make some grand pronouncement and start it all up again. I told him I will not be doing that. My objectives were realized. That has happened thanks to my…very good friend here." Bryn's gaze turned warm then she smiled slightly and looked away, doing a very good job of not behaving girlishly. It was adorable when she did, but it wouldn't be confidence-inspiring. "I will go save Rikke from him and try to pound into his bald head that it will go badly for him if he doesn't toe the line." Skald was not popular with his people, and if he didn't watch it he would find himself replaced quite easily.

Ulfric walked away, and once he was out of earshot Balgruuf muttered, "Gods help us, it is true. You, and…_him?_"

Bryn replied quietly, "Did you honestly think it wasn't true?"

He sighed and said with disappointment, "No, I knew it was, but…why? The man plotted to take my city!"

"Yes, but when I told him how vigorously I would defend it he suddenly began to have a change of heart."

"Ah, so he does have one then," he said in an acerbic tone.

"He's a good person, my Jarl. A good person who has done some not very good things, I will admit. He would be the first to admit it as well. He is not what he seems."

"I'm going to tell you what I told the Harbinger earlier today: there's going to be trouble. Mark my words. Ulfric's deeds will come back to haunt him."

"They already do."

Balgruuf grunted. "Well then, I won't add to it, but I don't think today is going to go as smoothly as everyone thinks it will. Eventually we'll get you on the throne, but it might not be as easy as expected." He would have said more, but then there was the deep boom of drums, telling him it was time for the Moot to begin. Servants and Proventus began to move through the room, showing the Jarls to their assigned seats, which had been thought out as carefully as possible to avoid conflict. Balgruuf took Bryn's arm, saying, "Come, you have the seat by me, at the head of the table over there."

"So…Vilkas." She could see him coming back down from the upstairs and quickly looked away. Better if she didn't look at all. Especially with him in that ebony armor.

"He's sitting at the end of our table. I asked him to come, as Harbinger. The Harbinger of the Companions is always invited to the Moots, especially when the throne is being contested. They haven't always come, but Vilkas takes his job seriously. And it's not far to travel, eh?"

She laughed softly. "Yes, I suppose not." Rikke met her at her seat and she took the offered water with a murmur of thanks, feeling sad. How she wished he didn't have to be here. It probably wasn't any easier on him than on her. It was certainly too soon on both their parts. She couldn't help wondering though what more Vilkas and Ulfric had talked about. Ulfric had said that he was the one who had approached Vilkas, partly to get away from Skald, partly to make sure there were no hard feelings that might cause problems down the road. He had said that Vilkas had renewed his pledge to fight the Thalmor with her, and he had wished them both well. It would be tempting later to get more out of Ulfric, to pick the encounter apart, but all that would do was make her look bad, maybe even make Ulfric doubt her. She couldn't do that. Better to leave the subject entirely alone and keep hoping her feelings for Vilkas would fade. They already had a little, but only when Ulfric was around. And Vilkas was not.

A dark shape moved across the hall and Bryn couldn't her eyes being drawn to it, and she had to swallow down the lump in her throat at the sight of Vilkas in ebony plate mail, so tall and unfairly handsome. The armor was quite flattering on him, and when he stripped off his gauntlets she saw a gleam of gold on his wrist that made her have to pull her eyes away before she started bawling. So he was still wearing the bracelet she had made him. She couldn't imagine why he would still be wearing it. She stared at the fire at the center of the hall, unable to help remembering when she had given it to him, after she had nearly died and he had been forced to transform. She didn't understand how he could have loved her so much and refused to marry her. But then maybe he would have finally, willingly married her if she hadn't foolishly numbed herself before going to Sovngarde and had responded properly to those last overtures he had made. She couldn't blame him for not going back to her in Riften. Maybe he hadn't even opened the letter at all, had simply thrown it into the nearest fire. Maybe he had just wanted a clean break and was too hurt to give it another try. She supposed she couldn't blame him for that. Still, it hurt terribly to see him again, made everything freshly painful, the memories too sharp and intense to just set aside. There was something in Vilkas that she had been drawn to from the start, something that had made her love him at first sight. Something Ulfric didn't have.

She looked across the table and felt a jolt of anxiety to see Ulfric sitting directly across from her, at the head of the other table, watching her with a troubled expression, slouched in his seat as he often was, his finger on his chin. Then he gave her a small smile, testing, and she let out a shaky breath and returned it as best she could with all the people in the room. Ah, but she did love him. With him she felt safe and secure. With Vilkas she had always had that worry in the background that he would never marry her, never agree to children. Ulfric would give her everything Vilkas had refused to. Ulfric had entered into their relationship holding nothing back, while with Vilkas she had always sensed that he wasn't quite giving it his all. She felt an elbow nudge her ribs and she pulled her eyes away from him to see Balgruuf scowling at her.

"Dibella's sake, knock it off," he whispered. "You want the whole damn hall to see you!"

"Sorry," she whispered back, taking a drink of water in an attempt to hide her blush. She glanced back at Ulfric and he was still watching her, then his eyes slid over to Balgruuf and he seemed to laugh to himself as he picked up his own mug and held it out to a servant to fill with mead.

"Shameless," Balgruuf muttered.

She leaned towards him and whispered, "So, how is it going with you and Irileth?" She glanced sideways and was satisfied to see a hint of pink on the Jarl's own cheeks as he cleared his throat and put on a look of unconcern.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hm, all right. If you say so." The housecarl was standing about five feet behind the Jarl's chair, as were the rest of the housecarls; Rikke was acting as Bryn's. She looked back at Irileth to see her watching the two of them with narrowed eyes, and when Bryn winked at her the Dunmer's eyes narrowed further as she stiffened slightly. She turned back to the gathering and left them both alone, determined to get the details later. For all she knew there was nothing going on, but the Jarl's answer and blushing told her something was.

After a moment Balgruuf whispered, "I'll tell you later." Bryn made a sound of satisfaction and nodded.

As the last of the Jarls settled in their seats Bryn looked over the tables and how everyone was seated. Ulfric was seated next to Dengeir of Falkreath; next was Thongvor Silver-Blood, then Korir, then Skald. At Bryn's own table was Balgruuf, Idgrod, Maven and Elisif. At the end of Bryn's own table was Vilkas, and at the end of the other was Viarmo, the Headmaster of the Bard's College. The Altmer was watching everything with gleaming eyes, seeming thrilled to be here. Bryn had always liked the Headmaster, who had an utter lack of Altmer arrogance, who in fact really didn't behave like an Altmer at all. Skald was looking at Viarmo out of the corner of his eye as if he was afraid the Elf was going to do something dangerous, which was laughable. As far as Bryn knew Viarmo couldn't even cast any spells, and he had lived in Skyrim his entire life.

Viarmo caught her eye and smiled and inclined his head to her, and she smiled back and raised her mug to him. He looked very pleased with himself, and she wondered again what the Bards were up to. Nothing nefarious, certainly. Some kind of special performance, she was sure, if every Bard in Skyrim had been recalled to the College. She did notice though that Lurbuk, the Orc Bard from Morthal, hadn't been amongst the group. She couldn't really be sorry for that; he had been the worst Bard she had ever heard, and by the number of contracts she had found on his life in the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary she wasn't the only one who thought so. She had always wondered if he had ever been an actual graduate of the Bard's College but had been too polite to ask, and his absence today made it glaringly clear that he was not.

Balgruuf stood and the quiet chatter amongst the Jarls ceased. He raised his hands and said loudly, "Jarls of Skryim, I call the Moot to order."

"Aye," they murmured in unison.

"We are here today to decide who will lead our country forward. We have been kingless for well nigh a year and a half. Our land has been torn apart by civil war and Thalmor manipulations. The war is over, and the Thalmor are gone from Skyrim, for now. Today is about Skyrim's future, and it is about what kind of future we want it to have. To be strong we have to be united. We must be led by someone who can represent _all_ of us, someone with the strength and vision to hold us together and force respect from not only the Thalmor but the Emperor." He paused for effect then went on, "As the one who called the Moot, it is my privilege to put forth my choice of candidate. As you all either know or have guessed, it is the Dragonborn, Brynhilde. Only she is capable of leading us forward. Only she is capable of making the Thalmor pay for what they have done to us. As Dragonborn, only she will be taken with the utmost seriousness by the Emperor and the Elder Council." He looked around the room and said, "Now, are there any others who will put either themselves or another forward?"

Skald yelled out, "Ulfric of Eastmarch!" Elisif cried out in outrage as there were gasps and murmurs of shock.

Ulfric raised his voice and said in irritation, "No, I do not accept the nomination. I am not a candidate nor will I be. I have made it clear that I no longer seek the title of High King."

Elisif spat, "Only because you've gotten your lover into place instead, murderer!"

"Damn it all," Balgruuf muttered angrily as he sat back down, heard only by Bryn next to him. He knew it would be her. He had hoped that Tullius had given her a talking to before coming here, but if he had it clearly hadn't taken.

Ulfric's jaw clenched as he debated how to answer, and Maven said in a tone of misgiving, "While I have the highest respect for the Dragonborn…really, I don't see how we can elect a, well, I hate to be indelicate, but…a half-breed, to be our High Queen." Most of the Jarls were appalled by the statement, even Skald. "If she were partly Breton or Redguard or Imperial, a full-blooded human, I'm sure we could all overlook that, but…Shor's bones, she's a half-Elf," she said with a touch of distaste. "Do we really want someone who was raised by Altmer ruling over us? Who could ever be sure where her real loyalties lie?"

Viarmo said in a tone of caution, "Jarl Maven, I assure you that it is entirely possible to be a _full_-blooded Altmer and still be loyal to Skyrim. I have lived here all my life. I was born here after my parents fled Sentinel in 42. A hundred and sixty years I have been a citizen of Skyrim, and I would die to defend her. The Dragonborn's blood isn't an issue, and shouldn't be, unless it's the actual dragon blood we're talking about, and then I would hope we all would consider that an asset."

"Yes, the dragons. The creatures that nearly destroyed us. The ones she is allowing to keep living when she was supposed to destroy them all. Am I the only one that finds that troubling? She said she was going to get rid of the dragons, and yet I still see them flying around the mountains, and she's been riding one, for heaven's sake. How can anyone believe a word she says?"

"How…_dare_ you," Ulfric said with barely restrained fury. "Is that how much you resent her for leaving you without the Dark Brotherhood or Thieves Guild at your beck and call? You would doom us all to endless strife and a Thalmor boot on our neck, to soothe your wounded pride? Oh, but of course you would, because you profit from it. I would like to know what portion of the coin in your coffers is from Cyrodiil and what part from Alinor!"

"What an offensive thing to imply, Jarl Ulfric," Maven said calmly. "I am an independent businesswoman, and while I may have ties to the Empire they are purely trade agreements."

Bryn stated, "All as carefully documented, I'm sure, as every other business arrangement you have undertaken?" The room was silent, and Bryn lifted her eyebrows and casually took a drink of water. Tullius had been certain that Maven would vote for Bryn; he had stated that not even a week ago, the last time she met with him. It looked like Maven was about to lose a number of her lucrative business contracts with the Empire. Bryn wondered who had made it worth her while.

"It isn't worth it, Maven," Idgrod murmured to her. She saw the other woman's knuckles were white where she gripped her mug. Maven ignored her, and Idgrod could see the tell-tale signs of fear in her. Maven wasn't angry at all. She was afraid. The elder Jarl didn't think she had ever seen a Black-Briar afraid of anything.

Ulfric went on, "A jeweled collar is still a collar. Golden chains are still chains. Perhaps you would be comfortable in servitude, Black-Briar, but the rest of us would not."

Maven said with an edge to her voice, "I'm not sure I know what you're getting at, Ulfric. Though I suppose if anyone here knows about chains and collars it would be you, hm?"

His eyes went wide and he heard gasps along with a furious growl from Galmar behind him. "You… you bitch," he hissed. "You fucking bitch!"

"Uncalled for!" Thongvor Silver-Blood shouted across at Maven. The other Jarls were furious, even the ones on the other side of the table, except for Elisif, who looked smugly pleased. The Dragonborn's nostrils were flared and her golden eyes burning, and for a split second he could swear he saw the faintest shadow of a dragon around her. "Great Akatosh," he whispered, but everyone else was too riled to hear. The girl's eyes met his and he felt a shiver of reverent fear go through him. It was like the old tales of Tiber Septim, where some couldn't look at him near the end of his life without seeing the aura of a dragon about him.

"How much are they paying you?" Ulfric yelled at Maven. "You would betray your own kinsmen in trade for septims- No, not septims, shiny Elven gold! Even the Empire doesn't want this! Tell me, tell us, who do you want on the throne then? If not Brynhilde, who?"

"The rightful High Queen: Elisif," Maven stated. Her suggestion was met with groans.

"Rightful how?" Korir asked in disbelief. "By being married to Torygg for five months before he died? What rights does that give her? She should be glad she's even been allowed to stay Jarl."

"Torygg didn't die, he was murdered!" Elisif cried.

"And I say he was not!" Ulfric shouted, slamming his hands on the table as he stood. "It was honorable combat! I am not proud of what I did, damn you, but he was free to reject my challenge, and he did not. He faced his end with courage, a courage I did not expect, but I was too blinded by rage and frustration at the time to see it."

"Blinded just as you are now," she retorted. "You're a brute! Torygg admired you! He would have listened to you if you had bothered to talk to him, but instead you simply Shouted him down!"

"And it was wrong, and I will regret it the rest of my life," he said through gritted teeth. The room went silent in shock. He kept his eyes on Elisif, on that porcelain doll's face, and she glared back with murder in her eyes. "I would take it back if I could," he stated, "but it is done and I cannot take it back. I cannot undo what has been done, only atone for it."

Into the bewildered silence Bryn said, "All right, Elisif. What would satisfy you? Tell us what it will take—"

"His death!" Elisif cried. "I don't care that the Emperor pardoned him, it wasn't Titus Mede's crime to forgive!"

"And it isn't yours either. I tried to tell you this. I tried to tell you what Torygg said to—"

"Lies! As if I'm supposed—"

"Stop interrupting me!" Elisif sucked in a breath of shock as the demand thundered at her. "You want to be High Queen, and yet you are willing to do something that will completely destabilize Skyrim to get vengeance. Your obsession trumps the welfare of our country and our people. You would have Ulfric dead and yourself on the throne, and the war will start again, and you'll still be a widow."

"Yes, and so will you."

Elisif's words were too pathetic to even react to, though the other Jarls found them horrifying. Bryn was glad she couldn't see Vilkas from where she was sitting. She couldn't imagine what he must be thinking at the moment, and Elisif was sitting right next to him. Well, this wasn't going to get any easier. When no one else spoke up she asked Elisif, "So you want another civil war, then?" The girl didn't answer; of course she didn't. "We've had four months of peace. You didn't consider me untrustworthy before. All that I have done for Skyrim, for Haafingar and Solitude, and that counts for nothing with you, because of Ulfric? After everything I have done, one would think that maybe there is a good reason for the choice I have made. In the end however, it is my choice, and you may not believe this, but it will not sway my decisions as High Queen." Elisif stayed silent, perhaps realizing that she had made herself look like a borderline lunatic. "So, I ask you again, Elisif the Fair, what would satisfy you, other than Ulfric's death?"

"Your promise to never marry him."

"This has nothing to do with me. I didn't kill Torygg. What payment would you exact from Ulfric that would make you stop accusing him of murder? And by the way, it offends me that you think that I would take up with a murderer. I have done a lot of killing, and I promise you I know the difference between that and murder." She looked at Ulfric, who stared back with a look of mixed anger and worry. He had feared all along that their relationship would end up costing her, and it seemed it was, but Elisif was only one Jarl. "I tell you Elisif that I had reasons for letting Ulfric live, when I could have ended the war almost a year ago by simply walking into the Palace of Kings and killing him and all his officers. I tried to tell you a month and a half ago what those reasons were, tried to explain things to you, and you refused to listen. A Queen should not refuse to listen. If you are listening now, I am telling you for the last time that Ulfric did not murder your husband. It's unfortunate that you find our relationship offensive, but it wasn't anything that was planned or could be helped. I would have explained it to you the last time I was in Solitude, in private, but again, you refused to listen."

Elisif's eyes darted around the room, seeing everyone watching Bryn keenly. Ulfric was staring at his lady love with shining eyes, his jaw clenched, then his gaze slid over to Elisif. He stared at her, waiting, not protesting. Her chin trembling, she said, "It wasn't a fair fight."

"No it wasn't," Bryn admitted, "but then I haven't had a fair fight in a long time either, other than Alduin, and it doesn't stop me from doing it. I do what I feel needs doing, just as he did, right or wrong."

"Fine, then I want him to step down as Jarl of Eastmarch."

Ulfric said with a sneer, "My family has ruled Eastmarch for a thousand years. I would sooner let you stick a knife in my chest."

"All right then. That is my price." Ulfric blinked in shock, and the reaction in the room was instant and intense. Elisif stood and shouted above the noise, "That is my price, Ulfric Kingslayer! You let me stick a knife in your chest, make you taste but a small fraction of what you did to my beloved Torygg, and I will accept that it was unfair but honorable combat, and I will cast my vote for the Dragonborn, if she watches, the way I had to watch you kill my husband!"

Unable to keep his mouth shut any longer, Vilkas stated angrily, "That is unacceptable! What the hell kind of price is that to ask for? Bryn has done nothing to you!" He wasn't about to simply sit by and let this happen right in front of him. He wasn't going to stay silent and watch this happen without protesting it. It would horrify Bryn to have to stand there and watch someone stab Ulfric. He didn't want to see the look in her eyes when it happened, and with a feeling of dread he knew that Ulfric was going to allow it.

"I don't care," Elisif hissed at him, making him sit back in his seat. "Ulfric deserves no love or comfort as long as I sleep alone! Five months we were married, still newlyweds, when Ulfric took him from me! I lost our child from the grief, miscarried a baby we didn't even know existed until it was bleeding out onto the floor!" That made the room fall into silence and hushed whispers again. Elisif was satisfied to see a look of guilt on Ulfric's face at that. Her voice shaking with rage, she said to him, "Yes, you can add baby-killer to the long list of your crimes, Beast of Eastmarch. We wouldn't have to hold this Moot today if my child had lived, because that child would be your next King or Queen."

Idgrod stated firmly, "No girl, we would be having the Moot twenty years from now, because if your behavior today is any indication of how you would raise a child, then that child would be unfit to rule, just as you are." She looked over at Ulfric and went on, "What say you, Jarl Ulfric? Will you pay her price, foolish as it is, and let us finish our business here?" If Maven was the only hold-out then the Moot was done and decided, but then Idgrod had already foreseen how it would end. She had foreseen it the moment the Dragonborn stepped through the door of Highmoon Hall. Idgrod wanted to know though how the Thalmor had gotten to her old friend, who was worrying at the hem of her tunic, staring at the fire as if she wasn't seeing or hearing any of what was going on right now.

Ulfric glared at Elisif then said, "Yes, I will pay it, if it will get this travesty over with."

Galmar leaned over his chair and growled, "Damn it, you don't have to go through with this!"

"No, but I will. We will all see if the milk-drinking girl has the courage to do it, or the courage to put a stop to it." He walked across the silent room, Galmar close behind, their boots ringing on the wooden floor, and he went to Bryn and held out his hand. She hesitated then stood and took it. He led her to Elisif, glancing at Vilkas who was watching with a dismayed expression. He kicked the leg of Elisif's chair, seeing the girl was already losing her enthusiasm for the idea. "Go on," he snarled. "Show the Jarls of Skyrim what Elisif the Fair is made of. Your husband faced me without fear. Surely you can do the same, knowing I will not defend myself, and have the courage to look me in the eyes when you do it."

Elisif glanced around the room and saw no sympathy, only horror that this was going to happen. She swallowed hard and rose, her legs shaking, and when she looked at the Dragonborn the other woman was staring at her with cold hatred, taking slow deep breaths, her nostrils flaring with each one. Like a dragon. "She will not defend you either," she demanded tremulously.

Bryn stated in a thundering voice, "No, but if you try to kill him, or your dagger is poisoned…you will find out what I did to make Elenwen piss herself, except you will not get the relief of dying at the end." She was too angry to control her Voice at the moment, and too angry to care. She held Elisif's eyes as Ulfric took off his furs and handed them to Galmar. Elisif looked away, panic in her eyes. This entire show was pointless, ridiculous, accomplishing nothing other than to reinforce to everyone what a fool the girl was and prove that Ulfric regretted killing Torygg. Bryn hated that Ulfric was going to get wounded, right in front of her, but if he had the courage to take it then she would have the courage to watch.

Ulfric handed Galmar his steel breastplate then held his hands out to his sides, saying in a harsh tone, "Go ahead, _Elisif_. Show the Jarls of Skyrim what kind of Queen you would have made." Elisif took in a shaking breath and her hand slowly moved towards the little dagger at her waist, jeweled and shiny, only ever meant to be decorative, just like her, and she shivered as she pulled it out. She licked her lips, staring at his chest, and he barked, "Do it! Do not expect me to take off more than this. Only my treasure has earned the right to see what the Thalmor did to me."

Vilkas watched with his heart pounding as it played out right next to him, still not quite believing this was happening. He saw Elisif's expression harden right before she took the dagger in both hands and plunged it into Ulfric's chest then yanked it out again. He choked and stumbled back a step and Bryn was instantly there to steady and heal him, but not before blood welled from the wound to soak the front of his shirt. Vilkas numbly noted that Elisif hadn't gotten anywhere near his heart, but the wound had still been deep. He thought that this might measure up as one of the most horrifying things he had ever witnessed in his life. Fighting was one thing, but this had been like passively watching a murder. And to hear those words from Ulfric about the Thalmor…Vilkas simply couldn't imagine. He had to be referring to scars, and Vilkas couldn't imagine how terrible they had to be that Ulfric refused to let anyone but Bryn see them. He couldn't imagine what it had done to Bryn to see them for the first time, or how she could ever get used to seeing them. He was sure her seeing them was what had made her deliver Elenwen to Ulfric for execution instead of simply doing it herself. _My treasure_…Vilkas' heart ached at the term of endearment. He didn't doubt Ulfric did treasure her, in all the ways Vilkas should have, and hadn't, until it was too late. Well, he would try to take comfort in that, the knowledge that he had done the right thing for once in stepping aside. He had to find some comfort in it or he was going to throw himself off the Great Porch.

Ulfric took a deep breath as the agony of the wound quickly faded, and he demanded of Elisif, "Are you satisfied now?" Elisif was staring at the bloody dagger in her hands, an expression of revulsion on her face. "Are you!" he shouted, and Elisif cried out and nodded, her entire body trembling. She stared at the front of his shirt and the wet stain there, her face as pale as a ghost. She was unable to meet his eyes, now or when she had done the deed, just as he had expected. Ulfric said angrily, "I regret Torygg's death, as I regret so many others, but I cannot take back what has been done. I will see Brynhilde made Queen, not so that I may rule through her but so that I may try to atone for what I have done, by following her. The Dragonborn was created by Akatosh to lead, but you…Dibella made you to be nothing but a brainless ornament on a man's arm." Elisif's redheaded housecarl hurried forward to take the dagger from her and begin wiping her hands, and it made Ulfric have to resist the urge to spit on her in contempt. "Say it," he demanded. "Say that your price is paid and you support Brynhilde as Queen."

"Yes," she whispered.

"No, you say it so that all may hear."

Elisif choked out, "You have paid my price, and I support Brynhilde as High Queen."

Ulfric turned away from her and walked toward the center of the hall, calling out, "There! The rest of you will do the same and crown the Dragonborn, or we have no hope! You have heard where she found the Thalmor, on a ship sailing for Alinor. What do you think their objective was? Why do you think they slipped away in the middle of the night to flee Skyrim, if not to report back to the Dominion that the war here had failed and the Dragonborn had brought peace? The Dominion fears us Nords, as they should, and they fear the Dragonborn most of all, she who has slaughtered over fifty now of the fiends, and left their ship floating in flames on the Sea of Ghosts." He pointed at Viarmo. "You, Bard. You will stand before this assembly and recite her titles and accomplishments to us. You will remind the Jarls, and everyone else in this hall, of what she has done for Skyrim, for Mankind, and for those like you who are not Men but still call Skyrim their home."

Viarmo smoothly stood, not about to get thrown off by the impromptu speech. He appreciated the dramatic, and he couldn't have asked for a better introduction. He noted Ulfric returning to his seat, as was the Dragonborn, but not before Viarmo saw her lock gazes with the Harbinger, their expressions heartrending. Ah, what a day this was! He raised his voice and said, "Jarls of Skyrim, listen now as I speak of the many glorious deeds and titles of the Dragonborn, Brynhilde." He paused at the end of the fire pit, seeing his fellow bards already moving into place. At the first soft boom of the drums he began. "Survivor of Helgen. Dragonslayer. Thane of Whiterun. Companion. Thane of The Rift. Thane of Hjaalmarch. Thane of The Reach. Thane of Haafingar. Thane of Falkreath. Thane of The Pale. Thane of Winterhold. Champion of Azura and Meridia. Agent of Mara. Agent of Dibella. Destroyer of the Dark Brotherhood. Bloodkin of the Orcs. Slayer of the Glenmoril Witches. Harbinger of the Companions. Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. Bard of the Bard's College. Destroyer of the Thieves Guild." Viarmo paused again then raised his voice further as the drums began to pound more loudly. "But more than that, above all else…Alduin's Bane! Ysmir, Dragon of the North. Stormcrown. Dovahkiin to dragon-kind, known to us as Dragonborn, as foretold in prophecy:

When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world  
When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped  
When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles  
When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls  
When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding  
The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn."

Giraud Gemane stepped forward into the reverent silence, the drums still beating a steady rhythm. The Breton historian said, "The Bard's College has deep roots, so deep that even as much as we try we sometimes lose track of what we once knew. For years I've had a scrap of parchment in my possession, written in an unknown alphabet, alien to every scholar I've shown it to. The runes are the same ones seen by intrepid adventurers at the tops of mountains, or in the depths of crypts, engraved into prehistoric walls. It wasn't until a few months ago when an old book came into our possession by a scholar named Hela Thrice-Versed that it became apparent that we had in our hands an ancient song of prophecy…in the language of dragons." The drumbeat changed, becoming more complicated. "The timing was fortuitous, to say the least. I've been able to translate the parchment, making the appropriate gender substitutions to fit our dear lady. The tune and exact pronunciation have been lost to time, but with the help of my worthy colleagues we present it here to you today, in honor of the one who would be our Queen."

Giraud recited in a ringing voice, "Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by her honor is sworn to keep evil forever at bay! And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph's shout, Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray! Hearken now, sons of snow, to an age long ago, and the tale, boldly told, of the one who was kin to both wyrm and the races of man, with a power to rival the sun! And the Voice she did wield, on that glorious field, when great Tamriel shuddered with war! Mighty Thu'um, like a blade, cut through enemies all, as the Dragonborn issued her roar! And the Scrolls have foretold of black wings in the cold, that when brothers wage war come unfurled! Alduin, Bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound, with a hunger to swallow the world! But a day shall arise when the dark dragon's lies will be silenced forever and then fair Skyrim will be free from foul Alduin's maw, Dragonborn be the savior of Men!"

The gathered Bards moved forward as Giraud and Viarmo joined their ranks, the Altmer Bard turning to face them and lift his arms, and as he brought them up the Bards began to chant, then their voices rose in perfect harmony as they broke into song.

_Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ek zin los vahriin, wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!_  
_Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan, Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!  
Huzrah nu, kul do od, wah aan bok lingrah vod, aahrk fin tey, boziik fun, do fin gein!_

_Wo lost fron wah ney dov, ahrk fin reyliik do jul, voth aan suleyk wah ronit faal krein!_  
_Ahrk fin zul, rek drey kod, nau tol morokei frod, rul lot Taazokaan motaad voth kein!  
Sahrot Thu'um, med aan tuz, vey zeim hokoron pah, ol fin Dovahkiin komeyt ek rein!_

_Ahrk fin Kel lost prodah, do ved viing ko fin krah, tol fod zeymah win kein meyz fundein!_  
_Alduin, feyn do jun, kruziik vokun staadnau, voth aan bahlok wah diivon fin lein!_

_Nuz aan sul, fent alok, fod fin vul dovah nok, fen kos nahlot mahfaeraak ahrk ruz!_  
_Paaz Keizaal fen kos stin nol bein Alduin jot, Dovahkiin kos fin saviik do muz!_  
_Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ek zin los vahriin, wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!  
Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan, Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!_

_Too-rah, too-rah, too-rah, yah!_  
_Too-rah, too-rah, too-rah, yah!_

The song ended suddenly, and in the space of a breath half the hall was on its feet, the walls ringing with shouts and cheers. The Bards bowed as a group, and Balgruuf yelled in delight, "Masterfully done!" Viarmo came forward at the Jarl's gesture, bowing again, and once the room eventually quieted back down he said, "Such a performance was worth the wait, Master Bard. You and your fellow Bards have the full hospitality of this house today."

"We thank you, Jarl Balgruuf." Viarmo smiled and bowed again, then he turned to look at Bryn, who gazed at him with a broad smile and shining eyes. He said to her, "I hope we did you suitable honor, Dragonborn. We weren't sure of course of the proper pronunciations."

"It was…ah, glorious!" she cried in a choked voice. "It was…_morokei lovaas_, a glorious song!"

"Dean Giraud has made a copy for you, in both languages."

"Thank you, I appreciate it." Viarmo bowed to her then backed away and returned to his seat. She had never heard anything so stirring in her life, so many soaring voices lifted in song. It had brought tears to her eyes, and she wasn't the only one it had affected in that way. How thoughtfully devious of the Bards to put all this together without a whisper of it getting out. Bryn took a drink of water and saw Ulfric watching her, a look of adoration on his face, and he smiled slightly at her regard, his sea blue eyes gleaming. How she loved him. Seeing Vilkas again had hurt, the two of them unable to look away from each other for several long, uncomfortable seconds, and he had looked magnificent in the ebony plate, so darkly handsome, and compared to that Ulfric couldn't help but show his age and the toll life had taken on him, his skin lined and his nose too big for his face, but Bryn loved that face, with its strong character and beautiful, mournful eyes. He was no Vilkas, but that was one of the reasons she loved him.

Still standing, Balgruuf said to the assembled Jarls, "As the prophecy foretold, Skyrim is sundered, kingless, bleeding. I say we put an end to that today! I call the first vote of this Moot. I call for Brynhilde, the Dragonborn."

As he returned to his seat Idgrod stood and said with conviction, "Brynhilde."

Maven slowly stood as the other woman sat, and she looked up the table at the girl, who gazed back calmly, but when Maven hesitated and swallowed hard Bryn frowned slightly, her look turning to one of confusion and concern. It was as if the damn creature could read her thoughts. Well, it wasn't as if Maven had the presence to mind to watch her expression right now. She shook her head and muttered, "Elisif," and sat back down to sighs and grumbles from the other Jarls.

"Brynhilde," Elisif said shortly, not bothering to rise.

Skald got up stiffly from his seat and said in a tone of resignation, "Well, I would rather it was Ulfric, but seeing as how that isn't going to happen…the Dragonborn, Brynhilde."

Korir nodded and quietly said, "Brynhilde." He wasn't particularly happy about her support for the College, but he didn't see any other choice for Winterhold, or Skyrim. And her words about Tsun and the mages in the Hall of Valor kept repeating uncomfortably in his head. If Shor himself welcomed magic users into his Hall as heroes, what would Shor think of him if he didn't welcome them to his city?

Thongvor stood and said in a proud voice, "I cast my vote for Brynhilde, the Dragonborn, by Talos!"

"Aye," Dengeir said in agreement, "the Dragonborn!"

Ulfric stood and gazed at her for a long moment as the room went completely silent, then he smiled and stated warmly, "My lady dragon, Dovahkiin, Brynhilde." She smiled back at him with love in her eyes, not caring who saw. Well, he didn't care either. Let them all see it!

Balgruuf waited for Ulfric to sit back down, and when he didn't Balgruuf stifled a grumble of annoyance and stated, "Then it is decided: eight of nine Holds for Brynhilde the Dragonborn. We have our High Queen! We are sundered no longer!" A glad cry went up from most of the Jarls and the folk in the balconies. Balgruuf looked at Maven, who was staring at the fire with an ill look on her face. He asked her, "What will it take to get a true consensus, Jarl of Riften? I know you and the Dragonborn have had your ah, difficulties. I'm sure some sort of compromise can be reached so we can tell Skyrim that all the Jarls had the good sense and selflessness to back the Dragonborn." Maven slowly shook her head, the muscles along her jawline twitching. Perplexed, Balgruuf looked around the room, seeing the other Jarls were just as confused by her behavior. He asked her, "Do you really want to go back to the Rift and explain to your people why you didn't vote for her?"

Idgrod put her hand on Maven's arm, making her flinch slightly. "Please, old friend," Idgrod murmured. "Whatever it is they've got on you, there's a way out of or around it, I'm sure of it."

"Not this time," Maven whispered. She could feel all eyes on her, something she usually enjoyed, but not now.

Skald barked, "We don't need a consensus! Let's wrap it up here and start the drinking."

Balgruuf nodded and looked down at Bryn, who was looking down the table at Maven with an expression of concern, then she noticed his attention and looked up at him and smiled briefly. He held out his hand and she took it, and as he pulled her to his feet and raised her hand as he shouted, "All hail Queen Brynhilde!" The hall rang with the answering shout, repeated three times, then the Bards began to play soft lute music as servants hurried to pour mead while others began bringing out platters of food to the tables. Balgruuf squeezed her hand and she surprised him by embracing him. He patted her on the back, hearing a muted grumble from Irileth in the background. He let go then motioned to the Jagged Crown on the table before him. "Going to put that on now?"

"Absolutely not," she answered quietly. "It will ruin my hair." His eyes widened then he realized she was joking. The Crown was ugly, though impressive, and it would have its uses, but not right now.

Thongvor called out, "So, our lady Queen…what is going to be the first order of business, eh? Maybe returning to The Reach and helping me wipe out those Forsworn bastards that are still causing me problems?"

Bryn stared at him for a long moment, seeing everyone was waiting to see how she was going to answer. She wasn't fond of the Silver-Blood family or their methods, and only knowing that Igmund had been taking Thalmor bribes made the trade bearable. While Thongvor was the most honorable member of the clan, still he was a Silver-Blood. She finally replied, "While I understand the Forsworn are a problem, and I've done my share of dealing with them, I would hope that you realize that some restraint is called for."

"Restraint! The only restraint we should show is letting enough of them live to work Cidhna Mine!"

"Thereby creating more Forsworn from the native Reachmen who might not have been sympathetic to their cause before. It's a never-ending cycle that is going to end up costing your hold, Jarl Thongvor. Unless you plan on enslaving or killing every Reachman, that is." She knew there was something more going on with the Silver-Blood family and the Forsworn than anyone was aware of, and now she wished she had looked into it when she was only the Dragonborn and maybe could have done something about it. Now it was probably too late.

"Of course not."

"The Forsworn are what amounts to a terrorist organization and should be dealt with as such; that I fully agree on. They can't be allowed to murder and pillage the way they do. However the law-abiding natives need to be left alone, and the native landowners need to stop being harassed and pressured to sell their land, and the native workers need to stop being bullied and taken advantage of. You can't keep pushing people and expect them to take it forever. They've been there for thousands of years and aren't going anywhere. The Nords aren't going anywhere either. Something needs to give." Thongvor nodded slowly, his lips pursed, not entirely pleased. She wasn't sure what he was expecting. Bryn came out from behind the table to stand at the head of the fire so she could see everyone equally. "As for what my first order of business is, well, at the moment I have no place to hold court. Until I figure that out, the most pressing matter facing us is the vampires." She saw several nods at that and a few 'hear hears' from the balconies. "They're becoming a serious menace, nearly as bad as the dragons were, and the destruction of the Hall of the Vigilant a few weeks ago was the last straw. They're up to something; it isn't in their nature to cooperate at the level necessary to cause the amount of destruction they did. If there's nothing else more urgent, I'm going to The Rift next." She looked at Maven and the older woman reluctantly lifted her head, and the look in her eyes confused Bryn all over again. Almost like she was pleading with Bryn. She went on in a distracted voice, "We don't know how long we have until the Thalmor go on the offensive, so best to take care of things at home first." Maven looked down at her plate, troubled. Bryn's eyes flicked to the housecarl, Maul, standing behind her, and to her annoyance he was glaring murderously at her. Well then, she wouldn't be heading to The Rift a moment too soon.

Dengeir said in an eager tone, "Yes my lady, the Thalmor! Tell us the tale of how you finished off the devils and drove them from Skyrim!"

Bryn laughed and blushed slightly. "Well, I really didn't drive them anywhere. Chased them down, maybe."

As he took his seat Ulfric said, "Our lady is much too modest. Tullius was unaware of the Thalmor Embassy's back door." There were snickers at that. "Once she made him aware of it he asked her to see if they were still there. They were not. If Brynhilde hadn't gone to Castle Dour and put herself in front of Tullius and forced him to listen to her, the Justiciars and Elenwen would be safely in Alinor by now. As it is, they are left guessing. Not for long, but perhaps long enough."

"And so I want to get the vampire issue resolved before then," Bryn said with a nod. "We don't know how much time we have before I'm called in front of the Emperor. I won't leave behind those monsters to terrorize our cities and towns."

"But the ship!" Dengeir pressed.

"Ah, yes. Well, the Embassy was abandoned, as you know. They had left a few servants behind to put on a show, to make it seem they were still there. I didn't bother to check; it was obvious by the number of tracks in the snow heading towards the coast that they were gone. I called Odahviing and mounted an aerial search, following the path of their exodus toward the sea, and found that they had already set sail, most likely very early that morning. As you can imagine, it didn't take them long to spot us. Odahviing wanted to burn the ship, but I wasn't going to allow that. Not yet. I told him to fly over the ship, and as we passed over he rolled and dropped me over the deck." She brought her hand down in a swooping motion, her eyes on the fire as she played out the memory.

There were gasps and mutters, and Korir said with an expression of disbelief, "How did you manage that?"

"_FEIM ZII GRON!"_ The gasps this time were louder, interspersed with cries of astonishment and delight. "It doesn't last long, but long enough to fall from a great height and land unharmed. I won't pretend my landing was graceful, but it worked."

"What did the Elves do?" someone cried from the right balcony.

She became solid again, generating more gasps, and said, "They attacked, of course, but I pulled out Dawnbreaker and Chillrend and defended myself, until my Voice regained its strength. Once it did I called the storm. Some of the Thalmor ran inside the cabin, locking their brethren outside in their cowardice. When my _thu'um_ was ready, I Shouted in the door, and dispatched those who were left. Elenwen was last, hiding in her cabin. She said she was open to negotiation. I was not." There were laughs at that. "I blew in that door as well, and punched her before she could regain her feet and throw lightning at me. The Altmer have no defense against the cold as we do. She tried to escape, but I Shouted _FO!_"

Vilkas shivered as a wave of sparkling white frost went through the hall, bringing _oohs_ of reverent wonder. He couldn't help hanging on her every word as the others did, her voice resonating through the palace, permanently touched with the _thu'um_. Bryn's tale-spinning was as masterful as a Bard's, her hands and body moving along with her story, punctuating it here and there with a dragon Shout, even the Bards themselves silent as they watched with wide eyes, no doubt making mental notes to craft songs about the adventure. She was a thing of beauty in the firelight, mixed with a terrible strength that came off her in nearly tangible waves. He truly couldn't begin to grasp what she had become. Probably no one here but Ulfric really did, and even the Jarl of Windhelm watched her intently, worshipping her with his eyes. Everyone was, but Vilkas could see the intense devotion there, Ulfric leaning forward in his seat with his hands on the table as if it was all he could do not to surge to his feet to join her. He was still wearing the bloody tunic, and Vilkas wondered if it was intended to be rubbed in Elisif's face. He glanced at the girl in the next seat and she was watching Bryn with a look of defeat. It had to gall to look at the Dragonborn and feel yourself fade in comparison, but then there wasn't a being on Nirn who could compare. The Nerevarine, maybe, wherever he was, if he still lived. Though his heart ached with loss, Vilkas felt some small measure of peace seeing the look on Ulfric's face. Ulfric would treat her as she deserved and play a fitting consort to her Queen, as the man who had nearly become King. His agreeing to a truce and holding to it, his questioning of his past actions, and his willingness today to take a knife in the chest in front of everyone told Vilkas what kind of man Ulfric was. He was certainly a more worthy partner to a Queen than Vilkas could ever be.

When Bryn came to the end of her story with her landing in Castle Dour's courtyard again and throwing Elenwen's head to Tullius, everyone came to their feet with a shout to toast Brynhilde's name and hail her again as Queen, and Vilkas did as well. When she sat and everyone began eating, he caught Ulfric's eye, and when the older man raised an eyebrow Vilkas lifted his mug to him. Ulfric smiled sadly and lifted his in return then took a long drink and shifted his gaze back to Bryn, his eyes rarely leaving her. Vilkas was determined to stay for a reasonable amount of time after the meal, and he would go up to Bryn and bend his knee to her as was expected, and then he was going home. He was going to go home and lock himself in his quarters and get completely, absolutely, shit-faced drunk.


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: Wow...over 10k views now! Thank you again to everyone following this story. You're all wonderful!**

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The feel of a smooth body sliding into the narrow travel bed next to him woke Ulfric from a light sleep, and as he rolled onto his side to pull Bryn against him he whispered happily, "I knew you would come to me, _umriidi_." He could hear Galmar snoring in the outer room of the tent, dead to the world, but sound would carry out here. He didn't care, but he knew she would. The more noise she made, the better it made him look.

"Is that why you're naked, my furry _kodaav?_"

He laughed softly and replied, "It was a measure of my faith in you." He felt her leg twine with his as he asked, "Just how did you get out here?"

"Silence and shadows." She had slipped out of her room in the lower level of Dragonsreach and up the stairs past half a dozen guards, but not before passing by the Jarl's quarters and accidentally hearing sounds of a man's passion and the distinctive, husky voice of a certain Dunmer housecarl. It had been shocking to her still somewhat sheltered senses, and yet wildly arousing at the same time. She hadn't been able to make out what Irileth was saying, but it had sounded rather demanding. Balgruuf had admitted to her tonight that he and Irileth hadn't yet consummated their relationship and that he thought she was starting to get impatient, but he still feared rushing things. It seemed Irileth had finally gotten fed up with waiting and made some aggressive moves on her Jarl. Bryn had forced herself away from the lusty sounds and had made her way to Jorrvaskr, making certain no one was outside, and had gone through the Underforge then out the secret exit. She would make her way back into Whiterun the same way. It had been ridiculously easy.

"Hm, mysterious," Ulfric murmured, feeling her hand reach around to caress his backside. He ran his hand up her back to pull her tighter against him and said, "You were…splendid tonight, precious. You held us all in your hand, like a true Queen." He kissed along her chin and jaw, whispering, "You can't imagine how I love you. There are no words for it, my beauty. No words at all."

Bryn laid her hand on his rough cheek and whispered, "I could see it in your eyes, all night. Everyone could." Once the meal had ended and everyone started circulating Ulfric had attached himself to her and had left her side only to speak to the other Jarls. He had deliberately left on the bloody shirt, as if he wanted to keep reminding everyone what he was willing to do to keep the peace. Elisif had left the gathering right away, as had Maven, but not before the Jarl of The Rift had cast several more pleading looks Bryn's way. She supposed she would have to stop by Mistveil Keep when she passed through and see what was eating at Maven. She had the disturbing feeling that the Thalmor had found some way to get to the older woman, though she wasn't sure how it could have happened. She wasn't really sure what she could do about it, either. The Thalmor should all be long gone, though she supposed they probably had plenty of non-Altmer operatives running around Skyrim.

"I am glad. Let them all see what you've done to me, my darling, my life."

"Oh Ulfric," she sighed wistfully, and her breath caught as his hand moved between her legs.

"Shh. You're going to have to be very, very quiet." The teasing sound of his voice made her whimper, and as he began slowly sliding his fingers into her he said, "What's this, already wet? What have you been up to?"

"Listening to Balgruuf and Irileth making love."

"Really," he whispered in lewd disbelief. "So…what were they doing?" His words faltered as he felt her hand wrap around him. It felt good, but he needed no encouragement tonight. So the Jarl of Whiterun was fornicating with his housecarl. Well, it happened, and the two had known each other for decades, but it was still a little shocking. And more than a little distasteful.

"I think…well, it sounded like she was in charge."

Ulfric barked out a laugh at that before catching himself. "Is that so. And do you like being in charge, my Queen?"

Her stroking faltered, and after a hesitation she whispered, "Sometimes."

"I haven't been very accommodating, have I."

"I understand. I would never—" He silenced her with a deep kiss then rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. When she tried to sit up he stopped her, and she resisted the compulsion to ask if he was sure this was what he wanted. She let him direct how she moved, and he took her hips to center her over him then pushed himself into her before pulling her close for another kiss. His slow movements inside her were maddening, not nearly enough, but she let him do what he wanted, fearful of taking over and ruining the moment. She had always loved riding Vilkas, holding him down and taking him from start to finish, and Vilkas had always practically melted into it, completely giving up control to her and losing himself in it. She didn't think Ulfric could ever do that. It wasn't his fault, and the reasons for it were obvious and upsetting. He was trying now though. It was a start.

Feeling the tension and frustration in her, Ulfric let her sit up enough so that he could see the dim outline of her face above him in the light of the two moons coming through the canvas of the tent. Her very human face. She stroked his cheek lovingly, and he moved more quickly inside her, building up his enthusiasm for the idea. He loosened his grip on her hips to allow her to move as she wanted, and she sighed and kissed him, breathed his name against his lips in a way that sent a flush of heat through him. "Ah there, go, go," he urged her, pushing her up and away from him, and she sat up and began riding him in earnest. He resisted the urge to close his eyes, keeping them on her, running his hands over her body as he watched her face. He had always kept his eyes tightly shut back then, unable to tolerate watching what was being done to him, hating himself for being unable to control his response to it, but this…this was so much different. This was his beloved. He watched her give herself up to it, closing her eyes and moaning softly as her movements became more intense. He soon felt shudders of pleasure go through her, panting in an effort to be quiet, and it drove him wild.

Bryn leaned down to kiss him but didn't get the chance, Ulfric pushing her off with such force that she feared he was upset. She opened her mouth to say something but he turned her over then around to face away from him then pushed her shoulders down. He moved behind her and entered her again, thrusting into her so deeply she cried out, and she buried her face in the pillow to muffle her screams as he pounded into her, so hard and fast it made her head spin. He suddenly pulled out of her and turned her onto her back and leaned down to taste her.

He felt her body trembling as she wound her fingers in his hair. As he began kissing and licking her he had to be grateful to Vilkas that he had been considerate with her from the start, leaving her with no inhibitions or anxieties in bed. It gave Ulfric a touch of guilt that he was enjoying the results of that, but it was quickly washed away as she climaxed again, biting her lip to keep nothing more than whimpers from coming out, driving him wild.

Bryn barely had time to catch her breath before Ulfric was on her, kissing her so aggressively she was sure it would leave marks. He wasn't at it long before he laid his head next to hers and spent himself in her, the sounds he made seeming to nearly tear themselves out of him. She'd never heard him make that kind of noise before, and it sent fresh shivers of excitement through her. The longer they were together, the more they made love, the easier it seemed to be for him to let go. She put her arms around his neck and petted his hair as he nuzzled and kissed by her ear, breathless. She combed her fingers through the loose strands, not tied back and braided as his hair usually was. She then realized something was digging into her chest between them, and when he shifted to the side she touched his chest and found he was wearing an amulet. Not the usual Amulet of Talos he wore, but a larger, round one. "Oh Ulfric," she whispered in poignant surprise. An Amulet of Mara. She wondered how long he'd had it, and how long he had been planning this.

"I was wondering when you were going to realize it," Ulfric said with amusement. "I've had it on all along. You were starting to worry me." He smoothed her hair back from her forehead, wishing he could see more than the outline of her face. "Marry me, Brynhilde. Be my wife."

"Yes. Yes!"

He laughed, partly at how relieved he was by her answer. As if she would answer any other way. He rubbed his nose against hers and said with delight, "When the war is done and the Thalmor vanquished, I'm going to start filling your belly with an endless succession of children. Blond, bold sons and daughters of the North." He didn't care how old he was. It didn't matter. Not anymore. Nothing did but her.

Ulfric pulled up the blankets over them as Bryn replied, "That sounds so wonderful…a houseful of children!"

"What sounds even more wonderful is letting an old man get some sleep."

Bryn's breath caught at the growled complaint from the outer part of the tent, though Ulfric laughed loudly at it. "We're getting married, Galmar!" he called out.

"Great, great," came the muttered reply, followed several seconds later by the resumption of heavy snores.

Ulfric laughed again as Bryn giggled then whispered, "I hope he wasn't awake long!" That would have been absolutely humiliating. Ulfric made a sound of unconcern, and she went on in a halting tone, "I just don't know how I can ever get used to it. How…open people up here are."

"You mean Nords?" She made a sound of assent. "It isn't just Nords, precious. We are more open than more folk, but if you had only seen the rutting going on around the campfires in the Legion. You learn to ignore it. It's human nature." He shook his head and went on, "Elves are strange in their mating behaviors. Hundreds of years they live and are lucky to have three or four children. Even the Orcs rarely have more than two or three. Didn't you ever catch your aunt and uncle going at it?"

"Ugh, no. I don't think they even particularly liked each other. It was an arranged marriage."

"Well, be glad you'll be marrying me soon. It will save you from the Emperor trying to match you with someone." He felt Bryn shudder in revulsion. The Emperor was childless and had never married, but he had a number of nephews near Bryn's age that Titus would no doubt try to press on her if she wasn't already taken.

"That would get him nowhere. He'd better be careful in how he deals with me." She made a sound of worry and said, "I really don't think I'm going to be any good at politics."

"There's no reason you should be," he replied. "All you need to do is not take anyone at their word until they have proven themselves to you. Hopefully your times in the Imperial City will be few and far between. You are now a member of the Elder Council, and at some point the Emperor will want to see you. In fact I'm surprised he hasn't already sent you some kind of message, when it became apparent that you were destined to be Queen." Bryn was silent, and he made a sound of realization. "Ah. So he has."

"In a way," she said carefully. "Through Tullius."

"And thus the heads." He felt her nod, and he sighed and lay down on his side to pull her back against him. "Well then, I will ask no more about it. You would have told me if you could. I suppose I should be glad he wants you on the throne and that he has that much sense. I hate the man and what he's done to us, all of us, but I have to respect his abilities as a war leader and politician." He nuzzled his nose into her hair and breathed deeply, and he felt Bryn's hand slide up into his between her breasts to twine her fingers with his. He sighed and whispered, "You make me happy. I have never been as happy as I have been since you came to me that night."

"I'm glad, _kodaavi,_" she replied in an emotion-choked voice. "You deserve to be. How long have you been planning this?"

"I've thought about it from the start, marrying you, but…I couldn't bring myself to do it. Shackle you to a beat up old man." He was going to be fifty next month, a birthday he was dreading. She made a sound of protest but he ignored it. "Maybe it's selfish of me, but I can't tolerate the thought of not having you with me, always, or at least knowing that you'll always come home to me. The last time you left Windhelm, when I saw you mount that beast of yours and fly away from me…it felt like my heart was breaking. Like you would never return to me and just…fly off to some distant land and never come back. I missed you terribly while you were gone. I kept batting the idea around, going back and forth between asking you and swearing I wouldn't, worrying it would cause problems for you, or wanting you to be with someone younger. Then I saw you tonight, looking so queenly, so beautiful. But the final thing that made me decide…" He paused, debating, then forged ahead. He wasn't one to shy away from difficulty. "It was, ah, Vilkas."

"Vilkas!" she whispered in shock, feeling her heart constrict. "What do you mean, Vilkas!"

"We talked for a bit. I wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings between him and me. And he got me away from Skald, but that's beside the point. He was watching the room, as if he wasn't sure what to do with himself, and I took the opportunity to clear the air between us, man to man. It wasn't comfortable, but it had to be done. I think my going up to him angered him, but…I had to do it. It was awkward, for both of us. He asked if I loved you and wanted to marry you, and I told him the truth, that I do, and he told me to do it and to let nothing stop me." He felt her trembling between them, but he was determined to get all this out, as much as he could without revealing the letter. If she pressed him about it he would have to tell her the full truth, no matter how it hurt her or what he had promised Vilkas. "You still love him, I know that—"

"Not like I love you."

That was a relief to hear, and he knew it was true, at least at this very moment. "And he still loves you." He had to say it. Had to give her at least that small chance to back out, without telling her about the letter.

Bryn whispered, "I know." She could see it during those brief moments they'd stared at each other, after Elisif had stabbed Ulfric. Vilkas had looked up into her eyes with an expression of anguish and loss that had torn her heart out. She shook her head and said, "But it just…isn't any good. Even if he had answered that letter and come to Riften to marry me, I would always have doubt in the back of my mind. I would always wonder if he would resent me later for forcing his hand."

Saddened, he said, "Yes, that's basically what he told me." And it made him feel worlds better about his decision to hear that from her.

"I've never had any doubts with you. I feel safe with you. With you I've never felt lonely, even when we're apart. With Vilkas, even when things were good I never stopped worrying, but with you…never."

Wildly relieved, Ulfric squeezed her tightly and kissed the back of her head. "It warms my heart to hear that, my treasure. I'll never give you reason to doubt me, I swear it."

"I believe you. I trust you."

"As you should. Perhaps one day you and Vilkas could tolerate being around each other. You may have to learn to be, if he joins us in the war. He's…a good man. He will be an asset."

"Yes," she whispered. "He's a great warrior." She swallowed her grief and went on, "I owe everything I am to the Companions, to Kodlak and his taking a chance on me. And Balgruuf. He put his faith in me when I was just a skinny, frightened girl. And Hadvar, for getting me out of Helgen alive. I wonder what ever happened to him? And Ralof?"

"Who knows," Ulfric said, not really caring. He still thought Hadvar a coward for not standing up to his Captain more, for allowing an innocent girl to go to the block simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but at least the man had redeemed himself. "Ralof is in the Falkreath camp, last I heard. I suppose I should talk to Galmar about disbanding our forces and sending them back to their respective holds."

"Yes, I've been thinking about that. I intend to tell Tullius to do the same with the Imperial camps."

He said with amusement, "I like the idea of you ordering Tullius about."

"Maybe I'll order him to put on some pants so he'll quit bitching about the cold." Ulfric chuckled at that. They laid there for several minutes in silence, and Bryn felt a pang of loss as she heard wolves start howling in the distance. Vilkas had stayed at the gathering long enough to be polite and introduce himself to all the Jarls, except Maven and Elisif who had left for their tents right away. He had come to Bryn last, going down on one knee before her and quietly congratulating her, calling her 'my Queen', telling her to call on the Companions if she ever had need, then he had turned and walked out of Dragonsreach. He hadn't looked her in the eye during the entire conversation, never lifting his eyes any further than her chin. Ulfric had been there, one hand on her back to steady her. Always steadying her.

Bryn squeezed his hand and asked, "When should we marry?"

"Oh…whenever you'd like, precious," he murmured sleepily. "You're going to The Rift next, yes? We could travel to Riften if you want on the way home. Take care of it then."

"All right," she whispered. She felt him nod and within moments his breathing and the loosening of his grip told her he was asleep. It was warm and cozy in the narrow bed, and she let her mind drift lazily, content in Ulfric's arms. She wondered if their wedding should be a bit fancier than a private ceremony in the Temple of Mara, now that she was Queen, but maybe it was better this way. It wasn't the ritual or the trappings that she wanted; it was the marriage, everything that came after the ceremony. She wanted a husband and the security of being married. Ulfric made her feel secure and loved. He had made her feel happier in their short time together than the entire year plus that she had been with Vilkas. She would have to set up her court in Windhelm then. The Jarls were all gathering again tomorrow to get down to more serious business, and she would make it a point of speaking to each one separately to talk about her marriage to Ulfric and what it might mean for her reign. She would have to impress on them that while she would always take Ulfric's advice, he would not be ruling through her. She would make it very clear that she was not the Stormcloak Queen. Stormcrown, maybe. She supposed she should come up with some fancy surname at some point, ridiculous as it seemed.

Bryn awoke a few hours later, stiff and much too hot, and after orienting herself realized she couldn't exactly stay out all night; it would look bad, and it would be insulting to Balgruuf's hospitality. This bed was also not made for two. She slid away from Ulfric and he snorted and stirred, and she leaned down to kiss his cheek, whispering, "I have to go, darling."

"All right," he murmured. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes."

"Be careful going back."

"Of course." She kissed his lips tenderly then dressed, and he was asleep again before she got her boots on. _Old man,_ she thought affectionately, though she would never dream of calling him that out loud, sensitive as he was about their age difference. She loved his maturity, and the lines in his face. It would be interesting to live with him and call Windhelm home. She had intended to make Riften home but that hadn't worked out the way she thought. Things rarely did. She hadn't expected to fall in love with Ulfric. He hadn't expected her to love him either. _I'm not the kind of man you would fall in love with,_ he had said. How sad that he had thought that. There was nothing about him that she found unlovable, other than his racism, and even that wasn't often an issue and only a product of his imprisonment. If Ulfric couldn't bring himself to look after the non-human residents of his city and hold then she and Brunwulf Free-Winter would have to continue to do so. If she married Ulfric she would be not only the High Queen but the Lady of Windhelm and Eastmarch; she wasn't going to allow Windhelm to be anything but the glorious city it had been in Ysgramor's day.

* * *

Bryn sprang to her feet as Aela came out the back doors, a bundled infant in the Huntress' arms. She embraced the older woman, and barely had time to glance at the baby's sleeping face before Lydia came out. Lydia squealed in delight and threw herself at Bryn, squeezing her tightly. "I'm so happy to see you two!" Bryn said breathlessly. It felt like coming home, being back at Jorrvaskr, though there was no way she was going inside. All the available Companions still patrolled the camps around Whiterun's perimeter during the daytime, so they were all gone from the mead hall, but there was no telling where Vilkas was. Bryn had sent in Lars Battle-Born to fetch one of the two women, giving him a septim for the service. She had to wonder if Jon and Olfina had gotten back into their families' good graces yet; they had relocated to Ivarstead last she had heard, the two clans still up in arms about the marriage. The feud was going to have to be set aside if a grandchild came of the union, which it no doubt quickly would, and Thorald and Avulstein would probably return to Whiterun soon once the Stormcloaks were disbanded. It was going to take time for resentments to ease, but Bryn wasn't going to tolerate all out divisions to continue.

"How have you been, Sister?" Aela asked curiously. Mjoll heard everything that went on with everyone, and if she didn't know she flat out asked. It appalled Aela sometimes how bold Mjoll was, but it never kept her from listening to the information Mjoll had gathered. Aela knew quite well that Bryn was with Ulfric. All of Skyrim did.

"Oh, good, good," Bryn said happily. She let go of Lydia then pulled Aela close, saying, "Let me see Skjor's daughter." Aela handed her over, and Bryn cradled the baby in her arm, or tried to. She couldn't believe how tiny the child was. So fragile. Frighteningly fragile. Bryn had never been more aware of her terrible strength than she was at this moment.

"Here," Aela murmured, showing Bryn how to properly hold the infant and support her head. She wondered if Bryn had ever held a child before, and she couldn't help worrying if holding Skjorta was going to make the younger woman break down into tears. Bryn smiled at the baby and ran her finger along Skjorta's cheek; she wasn't wearing gauntlets or armor but instead a rich dress of wine red overlaid with a tabard of yellow embroidered with gold, the dragonbone circlet over loose blond hair, and her usual Amulet of Talos, and over it all was the cloak of snowy sabre cat fur. She was armed only with the Blade of Woe. "Are you alone?" Aela asked. It didn't seem proper that she was.

"Rikke is waiting at the top of the stairs," she stated in a near whisper, wary of the _thu'um_ startling the baby awake. "She didn't want to impose." Lydia clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes, turning away to go fetch the former Legate. Bryn petted Aela's hair and the older woman smiled at her, though her worry wasn't well hidden. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, as long as it is with you."

"Everything is great, I promise. Complicated, but we'll work through it."

"You and Ulfric, you mean." Bryn made a sound of assent. "Complicated in what way?"

"Not between the two of us. It's the…Queen thing," Bryn said uncomfortably. It had really started hitting home to her this morning that she was now High Queen of Skyrim. That she was now effectively ruling a country. It had started to actually panic her a bit as she lay there in bed wondering what on Nirn she was supposed to do now. She had no idea what she was doing. What the daily routine would be. It had started to hit her that she would no longer have the freedom to just run off whenever she wanted, or poke around in crypts anymore. She might get one last stint while looking into the vampire problem, but that would probably be it.

"Yes. Congratulations." Bryn laughed softly at the dry statement. Aela would treat her with the utmost respect in public, but she knew Bryn well enough to know that in private she would loathe being kowtowed to by anyone who had been close to her. Aela counted herself among that select group.

"Well, honestly…I'm not sure what to do from here." She heard Lydia returning with Rikke, who nodded towards Aela in greeting.

"Hail, Companion," Rikke said with respect. Aela nodded in return. Rikke came to stand by Bryn, taking Lydia's offer of hospitality and her urge to not stand on formality at face value. It was exciting to finally see Jorrvaskr up close, and an honor to be welcome here. She peered at the baby then said to Aela, "Lovely child, Huntress." The girl looked strong and healthy, her plump cheeks rosy. Aela murmured her thanks. Rikke stood back and said without regret, "Never did get that natural desire to have children. Not sure why. No regrets, but sometimes I wonder what it would have been like."

Lydia stated, "I never had a strong urge to have babies either, but Farkas really wants children, and I'm all right with it." She rubbed her still-flat stomach and said, "I know once the little one arrives I'll fall in love and wonder how I ever could have not wanted one." She put her arm around Bryn and said, "So…how has it been with Ulfric?"

Hearing the concern in her good friend's voice, Bryn said, "Oh, he's…wonderful. Just wonderful."

"Really." She heard a grunt from Rikke and Bryn shook her head at both of them. "It's just…hm. He's… ah…"

"What?" Bryn pressed in annoyance. "Old? Ugly?"

Lydia gave her a shake and said in aggravation, "No, of course not. You know damn well that I think he's a striking man, and his age isn't an issue for me if it isn't for you. I meant the whole rebellion thing. I know the Emperor pardoned him and he's been fully willing to keep the peace, but…he just doesn't strike me as a warm man. In fact he comes across as very domineering and brusque." Lydia had met him only once, that morning in Candlehearth Hall, and he had not made a good first impression. She couldn't help finding him attractive though, tall and well-built, with very lovely light bluish-green eyes. The nose though, that was a little hard to get past, though she supposed it could grow on you after a while. Lydia was so used to living with Farkas' beautiful, perfectly proportioned face that most other men looked coarse in comparison. She still woke up every morning wondering how on Nirn she had managed to land a man like that, and blessed Dibella and Mara both for it.

"He isn't with me. He's been nothing but kind and respectful to me. He calls me all kinds of sweet names. He called me his treasure in front of all the Jarls yesterday." She sighed and looked down at the baby, going on, "Last night he asked me to marry him, and I said yes, and after the Dominion is dealt with we'll start having children." Lydia gasped and Rikke stiffened in surprise. Bryn ignored the reaction, drinking in the sight of the baby's adorable, round-cheeked face. How she wanted one of these. She lifted the blanket Skjorta was swaddled in to see light brown hair, then covered her back up to protect her from the slight breeze. She glanced at Aela, who seemed unconcerned by Bryn's relationship. Considering Skjor's age and the circumstances around their relationship, Bryn wasn't surprised. "Should we take her inside? Is it too cold out here?"

"No, she's a Nord child," Aela said without concern. "She's bundled up more than enough. You have to be more careful about our babies overheating than getting chilled. And…well, best if we keep Jorrvaskr as quiet as possible today."

"Why?" Aela hesitated, and she asked with sad worry, "Is Vilkas upset? He seemed fine yesterday. He was the one who told Ulfric to marry me."

"What!" Lydia squawked, making the baby flinch and pout before subsiding back to sleep.

"Ulfric said he and Vilkas had a man-to-man last night before the Moot, to clear the air. Ulfric didn't want there to be any problems or hard feelings between them, and Vilkas asked him if he loved me and wanted to marry me, and Ulfric said yes, and Vilkas told him to do it and not let anything stop him." Lydia and Aela looked at each other with wary expressions, and Bryn asked with anxiety, "What's wrong?"

Aela motioned for Lydia to go ahead, and Lydia quietly said, "He, ah…went on a bender last night. Brill and Aerin saw him come in the door and pick up every bottle of mead he could get his hands on then he locked himself in his quarters. He still hasn't come out, but when Njada and Mjoll were getting ready to leave earlier this morning he started bellowing for everyone to get out and be quiet or he was going to kill someone. Farkas tried to get in and Vilkas told him…" Lydia rubbed her eyes, unable to go on. She usually didn't flinch from difficult situations, but this had been extremely upsetting. Vilkas didn't drink, not to the point of getting even tipsy, let alone drunk to the extent he had last night. The only bright spot in all this was that he hadn't come out of his quarters while he was plastered. She couldn't begin to imagine what he would have done if he had. A drunk Farkas was funny and happy; Lydia could only think that a drunk Vilkas would be a complete asshole. A monster.

"What! What did he tell him!" Bryn whispered in a shaking voice.

Aela said, "That unless he was there to mop up the puke he could go fuck himself." Bryn's chin started to tremble as tears welled up in her eyes. Aela took the baby from her as Lydia put her arm around her, and Bryn held onto Lydia tightly, shivering. "I'm sorry, but…eh." She didn't even know what to say. Aela had found Vilkas' drunkenness as upsetting and out of character as anyone, with as long as she'd known him. He had never handled alcohol well and had given up on heavy drinking in his early twenties. She hadn't seen him even tipsy in over fifteen years, so to hear him last night muttering to himself and breaking empty mead bottles against the wall had been deeply unsettling. She was just glad that she hadn't understood any of what he was saying.

"Maybe…maybe I should go talk to him."

"Don't you dare!" both Rikke and Lydia ordered. Rikke moved to stand in front of Bryn and look her in the eye. She said in a tone of warning, "I can guarantee that he is in no mood to see anyone right now, my lady, let alone you. He'll end up turning the anger on you, and you'll have that between you. You'll end up mulling over it all day when you should be focusing on beginning your reign." Bryn's expression hardened as she opened her mouth to protest, then she caught herself and went limp again. Lydia rubbed her back and Bryn took her housecarl's hand for comfort. The closeness between the two of them was touching, forged over a year in situations Rikke could barely imagine. Rikke wasn't particularly envious of that; it wasn't what she had attached herself to the Dragonborn's service for. She liked the girl, but she served Bryn for the honor and glory of it, and because she wanted to help put her homeland back together. She didn't doubt that she would grow to love the Dragonborn for herself someday, but it would never compare to the closeness Bryn and Lydia shared.

"But why did he do that? He told Ulfric to marry me!" The rumble of her voice made the baby whimper, and she lowered it back to a near whisper. "He…he said he wished us well!"

"That was kind of him, and I'm sure he meant it, but…sometimes men do what they have to then they go sulk in private. Alcohol is never a good way to deal with being upset, but it always seems like a good idea at the time. Believe me, you do not want to talk to him when he's hung over and bad-tempered."

"You really do not," Lydia agreed. She squeezed Bryn's hand and said, "Farkas will go talk to him later, after the worst of it is over. He's probably going to be horribly embarrassed by what he did. It's probably best if none of us even let him know that you knew about it." Lydia found all this bewildering though. She couldn't understand what the hell was going on with Vilkas. He had been sulking for months on end, grieving according to Farkas, and yet he had just rolled over and handed away the love of his life to another man? It made no sense at all, and neither did Bryn going to Ulfric in the first place. It made Lydia wish she had gone to Riften after Bryn's return from Sovngarde. Maybe if she had she could have gotten Bryn and Vilkas to fix things. And now it was too late.

Aela muttered, "You've got that right."

"It might be best if you didn't tell Ulfric either. If he thinks Vilkas still loves you—"

"He already knows that. He was the one who brought it up," Bryn said miserably. "And he knows I still love Vilkas, and Vilkas knows it too." Lydia and Aela both sighed, the redhead shaking her head, while Rikke frowned in concern. Well, she did love Vilkas. She loved him as much as ever. But she loved Ulfric just as much. More in some ways. She certainly trusted Ulfric much more than she ever had Vilkas. But Vilkas…no one had ever made her feel quite like he had.

Rikke grimaced and said in disbelief, "You two talked about this?"

"Last night, after he asked me to marry him. I snuck out of Dragonsreach and went to his tent."

"My lady," Rikke began in disapproval. Bryn should have told her she was going out there. She was going to have to stop doing things like that.

"What's going to happen? Bandits? Wolves? Think about who you're talking to!"

"It isn't that. It's the…the impropriety of it, if someone were to see. As if you're some lovesick child. It doesn't exactly inspire confidence. It's going to be hard enough as it is for the Jarls to hear that you and Ulfric are betrothed, even the ones who support him-"

"Why? They wanted him on the throne, so how does his being married to me have anything to do with them?"

"They would have had the same problem if you had fought under his banner. It's the concentration of too much power."

"Again, think about who you're talking to!"

"There are different kinds of power, my lady. You wield personal power, contained within yourself, and you have the power of being a thing that Nords revere. Ulfric wields political power, ideological power. The idea of the two of you combined is worrisome to many people."

"Ulfric doesn't control me or influence my thinking, in fact it is quite the opposite. You would think everyone would see that, when he stopped his plans to attack Whiterun, when he held to the peace, when he gave up his claim to the throne, when he stopped allowing the Dunmer in his city to be harassed—"

"That one was Galmar. You told me so." She had to hand it to Galmar; the housecarl knew Bryn was good for Ulfric. Rikke wished Bryn had discussed the betrothal with her this morning so they could have started working on plans in private. She didn't particularly want to live in Windhelm, in Ulfric's den, but she had the feeling her Queen would put her own stamp on the place, in a house that had been ruled exclusively by men for decades. She would help Bryn do that, and if Galmar caused problems she was going to punch the old goat. Not that he was any older than her, really. She had avoided talking to him so far, but that was about to come to an abrupt end. Maybe if she got to know him again she would find him tolerable, but she doubted it. He wasn't the man she had known in their youth any more than Ulfric was, but then again she wasn't the girl they had known either.

"Either way, if they think Ulfric is going to influence me or wield power through me they're mad. He has advised me, as any of the Jarls are free to do, but at the end of the day he is the Jarl of Eastmarch and I rule Skyrim. Once we marry he will be my consort, not a co-ruler." The spouses of the Kings and Queens had no real power other than that of their influence with their husband or wife. Their favor was sought after, for obvious reasons, but Ulfric had enough authority in his own right as a Jarl that the idea that he would try to rule through her was laughable.

Rikke nodded slowly. "All right then. Today we will impress that on the Jarls. We will impress on them your…moral certitude and independence. Today we get down to business. Remind the Jarls that you made the conscious ethical decision to not join either the Legion or the Stormcloaks, and that you saved Ulfric for last to show him just how much you disapproved of his actions. That you went into Windhelm and fixed his city for him." Bryn made a face of dread, and Rikke shrugged and said, "Well, if he was willing to take a knife in the chest last night—"

"Good gods," Lydia breathed in horror.

"—then he should be willing to own up to the rest of it." She looked at Lydia and said, "I'm sure the rest of the Companions will hear about it at some point today from the guards. It started going around last night, but if you've been up here at Jorrvaskr I suppose you wouldn't hear about it, and obviously Vilkas was in no condition to talk about it last night, but he was right there when it happened, not five feet away. Ulfric allowed Elisif to stab him in the chest, to prove he was sorry for killing Torygg, and unfortunately in order to secure her vote she made Brynhilde watch."

"Oh Bryn," she whispered in dismay. Bryn didn't look as upset as she could have been, and no doubt she was right there to heal him afterwards, but it had to have been hard to watch. And Vilkas right there, too.

"Sickening," Aela stated angrily. "She resents Bryn for taking up with her husband's killer, so she symbolically kills him in front of her, is that it? Thank the Divines the crazy bitch didn't become Queen." If it had been Skjor, Aela would have gone after the girl and damned the consequences, but obviously Bryn had better control than that.

Rikke winced at Aela's bluntness and said, "Yes, well, her actions are going to get around, as are Ulfric's. He will look noble for submitting to it and regretting Torygg's death in front of the Moot, and Elisif will look like a madwoman for suggesting it and making our lady watch. I have to hand it to him; it was a powerful statement he made, but I suppose that's what he does." Tullius was going to be extremely disappointed in Elisif for what she had done, more for making herself look bad than anything else, and Elisif had done that in spades. She smiled at Bryn and put her hand on her shoulder. "And our lady Queen charmed them all with her tale of her daring attack on a Thalmor ship at sea. No doubt the Bards are crafting songs about it already." They had all dispersed to their prior assignments this morning, many of them probably quite hung over; she had heard that they had thrown quite the raucous party out at their camp last night before going their separate ways. She was sorry to have missed out on it. That Viarmo was a handsome mer, and she would have liked to let his flirtations on the road go somewhere, but she was starting to get to a point in her life where one night stands were getting a bit old. Like her.

"I can't wait to hear about it," the Huntress said. She nudged Bryn and changed the subject, saying, "Mjoll and I are getting married, when Skjorta is old enough to travel. Will you be there?"

"If I can," Bryn replied with reservation. "I'm going after the vampires after this. I want to be there, but who knows where I'll be or if I'll get the message. You can send one to me in Windhelm. I really have nowhere else to hold court. I can't exactly do it in Honeyside. But I'll do everything I can to be there."

"Well, it will be a couple months yet. And what about your wedding?"

"We're going to stop in Riften on the way back and get it done."

Lydia protested, "Get it done? Just stop and get it done?" Bryn shrugged sheepishly and she said, "Unacceptable. No. I will _not_ let you get married like that. For Mara's sake, you're the Queen now and you're just going to stop by and get it done? Eloping like Jon and Olfina did? Whose idea was that, his?"

"Well…"

"You arranged a beautiful wedding for me and Farkas. The least I can do is the same for you. You never leave wedding planning to men. My gods, you can't just stop by and get married like you're eloping! It's shameful!" A smile slowly spread over Bryn's face. "What!"

Bryn said with a sigh, "I've missed you, Lydia."

Her friend huffed and said, "Well clearly you still need me if you're making asinine decisions like that." Rikke made a sound of offense and Lydia ignored her. "I know I can't still serve you, or rather that you won't let me, but I would pack up and follow you to Windhelm in a heartbeat, you know that." Bryn nodded, looking sad, then glanced at Lydia's flat belly. No, Bryn would never ask Lydia to serve her again. Bryn wanted Lydia living her own life here with Farkas and a family too much for that. "If you won't let me come serve you, then you're going to at least let me arrange a proper wedding for you."

"I'm afraid if we don't do it on the way home that it will be hard to go back to Riften later. I'm going to be running around after vampires, and Ulfric is a very busy man, especially if he's going to be dismantling the Stormcloak camps and dispersing the soldiers."

"Then get married in Windhelm. It's tradition to get married in Mara's Temple, but not everyone does. Marry in the Temple of Talos. I'm sure Ulfric would get a kick out of that."

"Kick," Rikke said with mixed amusement and wariness. "Yes, I'm sure he would." He would probably be thrilled to get married under the gaze of Talos. Rikke didn't have a problem with that per se, but starting a marriage under the auspices of the god of war wasn't particularly romantic. Not that she knew much about romance. She liked men just fine and had had her share of fun when she was younger, but at her age and rank it wasn't as easy as it used to be, and she was getting tired of running around. Now that she was retired from the Legion and attached to the Queen's service she thought it would be nice to settle down, but she was worried about her prospects as old as she was. And she would be living in a Stormcloak lair, no less. Her prospects there would not be good at all.

Lydia said, "It's settled then. Go talk to Ulfric when he comes up today and set a date, then let me know and I'll go to Windhelm with Farkas. You should have at least the two of us there with you. Everything else can wait, at least long enough to have a proper wedding. It won't be what I consider fit for a Queen, but good enough I suppose." Bryn hugged her gratefully, and she sighed and hugged her back, missing her and their times on the road together. It was sad that Bryn wouldn't really get the chance to enjoy being married for who knew how long; Lydia didn't fool herself that the Dominion would give the Empire long before it launched another war, and Bryn would be on the front lines of it. Lydia went home to Breezehome every night and slept securely in Farkas' arms, knowing that when she woke up they would eat breakfast together then walk up to Jorrvaskr together to start their day, Farkas at the Skyforge and Lydia inside the mead hall, or out in the training yard. Bryn's life now didn't look to have any more stability or routine than it ever had. It was nice that she was going to have the security of marriage to a man who truly wanted it, who wanted to have children with her, but Ulfric was almost twenty-two years older than Bryn. He was going to grow old before her, die well before her. And that was if they both survived the war, which Vilkas had vowed to go fight in as well. Bryn wasn't going to get that warm, cozy home life she had always craved any time soon, maybe never now that she was Queen. Bryn had to know that, but maybe at this point she was all right with that. She had been in motion so long that Lydia had to wonder if she would even be able to stop when life finally let her.


	37. Chapter 37

Vilkas braced himself, his head still pounding, then unlocked the outer doors to his quarters. Jorrvaskr was quiet, all the Companions probably still on their rounds, though he had no idea what time it was. No idea at all. He had been puking his guts up in his room for what seemed like hours, glad that he'd had the foresight to take a bucket in there with him the night before, but his aim hadn't been all that great a few times. "Idiot," he whispered angrily. "Fucking idiot!" He should have known better than to get drunk, especially that drunk. He had never been able to handle alcohol as well as the average Nord, which made no sense since his twin could get drunk with hardly any consequences the next morning. He was too old to do something so stupid. He was the damn Harbinger. Harbingers weren't supposed to get drunk.

He rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the scratch of beard growth, something he usually couldn't tolerate, but he was too lazy and sore to do anything about it right now. He made his way down to the end of the hall, which Lydia had turned into an apothecary not long after taking Tilma's place. Farkas and Ulfberth War-Bear had carefully hauled the alchemy table all the way up to Jorrvaskr under her supervision, somehow managing to not break any of the glass instruments or throw them out of alignment. Lydia had become a rather good alchemist during her time with Bryn and had brewed up a good stock of potions, all labeled and neatly arranged on shelves there so that the Companions always had access to them on their way out to do a job. Tilma had always been content to simply keep everything clean and everyone fed, but Lydia had different ideas about that. Vilkas had to say that the way his sister-in-law ruled Jorrvaskr certainly kept things running smoothly and efficiently, with Aerin's competent help. He honestly couldn't imagine how Tilma had done everything she had all on her own for so many decades.

He pulled down a potion for neutralizing poison and forced it down, feeling his nausea surface again briefly before it subsided, and when he followed it with a minor healing potion he finally felt total relief. Not that he deserved it, but he couldn't function like this. He needed to function, because he had made a royal mess of his room and he'd be damned if Lydia or Aerin cleaned it up. If he even mentioned it to Lydia she would probably take his head off. He remembered only part of the evening, but broken mead bottles were everywhere. He was lucky he hadn't cut up his feet.

Vilkas managed to get his room back to some semblance of order and cleanliness before he heard his brother's distinctive heavy footsteps, and when he heard a knock on the outer door jamb he muttered, "Come in."

"You sure?" Farkas asked warily.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"'Cause I'd rather not mop up puke or fuck myself."

Vilkas grumbled and rubbed his eyes, feeling like an ass, and when Farkas came to stand in the doorway he mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Farkas waved him off and said, "No worries, I understand. You never could handle drinking." Vilkas grunted, not meeting his eyes as he got out some clean clothes, still wearing the doublet and pants that went under his armor.

"What time is it?"

"Three-thirty, four, somewhere thereabouts." Vilkas grunted again. "So?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on." His twin curtly shook his head. "Okay, well, I'm going to get it all out there and warn you that Lydia and I are leaving for Windhelm for a week or so. Tonight." Vilkas closed his eyes for a moment then nodded, looking like someone had just stabbed him. Farkas asked in confusion, "So you already know?" He didn't see how Vilkas could. Lydia had said that no one but Bryn had known until late this morning, when she had let her and Aela and Rikke know. Lydia had been a little upset about it too. They had always thought that eventually Bryn and Vilkas would get back together. Ulfric seemed to make Bryn happy, and that was what mattered, but something about this just didn't seem right, but then Farkas thought that maybe he and Lydia were too close to the situation.

"That they're getting married? Just a guess. After all, I'm the one who told Ulfric to do it."

"Are you serious?" Vilkas nodded, leaning against the side of the bed and folding his arms. "Why?"

"Because I didn't marry her, so someone should. Someone who loves her. I could tell he does. His eyes never leave her when she's around. He's a good man. He'll be…good for her."

Seeing Vilkas swallowed hard and blink, Farkas went to him and put his arm around his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. "Hey," he murmured. "I'm sorry. That had to be rough. Hjalki was on duty yesterday and told me all about the stabbing and the vote and Bryn's story and everything."

Vilkas whispered painfully, "You should have seen her, Farkas. Like one of the great Queens of Ysgramor's line in the olden days. No Bard could do the story she told justice, though I'm sure they will try. And Ulfric…he willingly stood there and let that mad bitch stab him in the chest, just to prove a point, and Bryn stood there right next to him and barely flinched when the knife struck him. And then after she healed him he simply walked away in that bloody shirt and began preaching at the other Jarls, as if it were nothing, and when Bryn looked at me… Gods, have you seen her? Seen her eyes?"

"No. I haven't had the chance to see her yet. Lydia told me though."

"Even Altmer don't have eyes like that. They were pure gold, like two septims, and her Voice…I knew about the _thu'um,_ how it never leaves it, but to hear it, like the soft roll of thunder in the distance..." He huffed in anguish and went on in a rough voice, "Better that she's with him. He was nearly a Greybeard; he understands her nature better than anyone else could. I don't begrudge him. He is a better match for her than I could ever be. More worthy." The High Queen of Skyrim shouldn't be with some mercenary. A man of unknown parentage without even a home to his name. It would be an embarrassment to her. It was embarrassment enough that the Dragonborn had spent a year with a man who wouldn't marry her.

"Now that I don't believe. Neither would she."

"She's the High Queen now. I can't even wrap my mind around it. He'll stand at her side as someone who could have been King in his own right. What would I have done?"

"Stood at her side as her husband and supported her however she would've asked you to." Vilkas stared at him then groaned and put his face in his hands. Farkas hugged him against him again, worried. "Come on, it stinks in here. Come outside and get some fresh air. Everyone's still out. Lydia's at home packing up our stuff. The only one home is Tilma and Brill." The elderly woman's bed and belongings had been moved upstairs into a corner of the hall, near Vignar's quarters, where it was warmer and she could see everything that was going on. She was mostly confined to bed these days, but she was still part of the life of Jorrvaskr, spending most of her time knitting or sewing things for Skjorta. There was always someone nearby upstairs to help her, usually Lydia, Aerin or Brill.

"Fine."

Vilkas let his brother lead him outside, the two of them checking on Tilma on their way out, but she had fallen asleep propped up in bed, her knitting still in her lap; Brill was sitting nearby mending one of Vignar's tunics. They went out onto the back patio, and the bright sunlight there was startling, the skies a pure, pale blue and cloudless. Vilkas could hear Eorlund pounding away up at the Skyforge.

"Go on, go get some sun," Farkas ordered, giving his brother a shove. Vilkas shrugged him off and went to the stone wall, leaning against its warmth and closing his eyes with a sigh. "There, don't you feel better?"

"No." He heard the sudden swell of arguing voices from up at Dragonsreach, startling him.

Farkas said with misgiving, "That doesn't sound good." The court had to be assembled out on the Great Porch for anyone to be able to hear anything. The weather was beautiful today, warmer than usual, a promising start for the first day of Queen Brynhilde's reign. A good omen, he hoped.

"_ENOUGH!"_

The shout and a crack of thunder sounded then rumbled into silence, the small background sounds of the city going completely still, even Eorlund's hammering and Heimskr's endless sermoning. Farkas and Vilkas stared at each other wide-eyed as more distant thunder sounded, though the words were impossible to make out this time, then eventually even that faded as Bryn got across whatever point she was trying to make. Farkas snorted a laugh and said, "Sounds like she's got everything in hand, eh?" Vilkas didn't answer, frowning deeply. "I think everyone is going to learn real fast not to piss her off. Ulfric included." Vilkas nodded, looking away from Farkas toward Jorrvaskr, a sorrowful expression on his face. Farkas moved into his line of sight and Vilkas' expression hardened. He quietly asked his twin, "What changed?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been grouchy about her for months, and now you're sad and missing her again." Vilkas shook his head as his jaw clenched. "So why did you end up talking to Ulfric?"

"More like he had a talk with me, and I don't feel like discussing it. I will never feel like discussing it. It was between me and him. I made my decision and it's final. She's happy with him and I want…want her to be happy." How he wanted to tell his brother about the letter. Unburden himself. It was killing him to not be able to tell his twin. They were supposed to tell each other everything, and he couldn't bring himself to do it, because he knew just what Farkas would do: insist he tell her. There was no way in hell he was going to be responsible for messing up her life when she had finally found someone who would treat her right.

Farkas sighed at the catch in Vilkas' voice and the anguish on his face. "Gods Vilkas, you can't just… If you still love her you should tell her, before she gets married. Lydia said that Bryn told her she still—" Vilkas put his hands over his ears and walked around him, and he turned and watched his twin go inside Jorrvaskr, not bothering to try to stop him. Vilkas' mood would only get worse, and maybe Vilkas already knew. Well, of course he knew. Lydia had said so. Bryn had admitted that she and Ulfric both knew that Vilkas still loved her, and that Bryn still loved him, and that Vilkas knew Bryn still loved him. It seemed painful and messy for everyone involved, or it would be if…Vilkas hadn't stepped aside. Maybe that was what Ulfric and Vilkas had done, talked about the situation, and if Vilkas had told Ulfric to marry her than Vilkas had willingly stepped aside. He had made his final choice for the sake of Bryn's happiness and then gone home to drown his sorrows in mead.

Deeply saddened, Farkas sighed heavily and headed home to join his wife. It made him grateful all over again for Lydia and their simple, loving marriage. It was nice that Bryn loved Ulfric, and Ulfric seemed to really love her, but Farkas still thought Bryn and Vilkas should be together. It had always seemed like they were meant for each other. Well, it looked like it was just too late. It had probably been too late since the day Bryn had asked him to marry her and he had said no. But then why did the two of them still love each other so much if it wasn't meant to be? Why would Mara let Vilkas keep hurting like this? Maybe it would get better with time, but it had been five months now. But maybe it just wasn't enough to get over a love like that. Maybe Vilkas never would. Farkas really hoped that wasn't the case. He really, really hoped so.

* * *

Rikke gazed up at the stern visage of Talos above her, made sterner by the shadows from the braziers lighting and warming the temple. She fingered her amulet and closed her eyes, murmuring a soft prayer to the Divine to give Bryn a little time with her soon-to-be-husband. Ulfric had readily agreed to marry here in Windhelm, under the eyes of his beloved god. It wasn't a warm temple of wood, and there were no priests of Mara, but the officiates here married folk occasionally who couldn't make it to Riften, so they would know what to say. Bryn's good friends Lydia and Farkas had hurried here ahead of Ulfric's entourage to ready everything, with a note from Ulfric to Jorleif to assist in any way they asked, and the end results were satisfying. Lydia had gotten a wedding gown made within a few days with white and pale blue silk from Niranye's stall and help from several Dunmer women; Farkas had gone out with some of the Jarl's guards yesterday to hunt elk for the wedding feast tonight. Between Lydia and Jorleif a proper wedding and celebration had been put together. The housecarl still didn't find it fit for a Queen, but it was as fancy as Bryn was likely to tolerate.

Hearing someone sit down in the bench in front of her, Rikke opened her eyes to see a man with graying hair sitting sideways, his arm draped over the bench as he looked at her. It took her several seconds to realize it was Galmar. She hardly recognized him without the hideous bear helm and armor of a Stormcloak officer, wearing instead a fine outfit of dark grey wool pants and a lighter blue shirt that was a shade lighter than his bright blue eyes. He'd even cut off his knotted beard and trimmed it for the occasion. He looked…normal. Even looked…good. Well, no reason he shouldn't. He'd been quite the handsome man in his youth.

"Rikke," he growled with a smirk as her eyes slid away. "You've been avoiding me."

"Maybe I've been avoiding that smelly rug you have the habit of wearing," she retorted.

"Huh. Well I'm not wearing it now."

"Why, having the fleas combed out of it?"

His breath hissed through his teeth. "You've gotten hard in your old age, woman."

"And you've gotten fat in yours."

"I prefer stocky," he stated, patting his stomach. "It's all muscle under there, I assure you." He saw other guests filing in and taking their seats. "So, what's this all about, eh? Can't unleash your venom on the real object of your anger, so I'm the next best thing?"

"I promised our Queen that I would give him a chance. I didn't promise her anything in regard to you."

"She likes me, you know." Rikke grunted. "You could like me too if you gave it time. But you don't want to, do you? We're going to be stuck with each other for a long while, lady Imperial."

Rikke said in annoyance, "I am retired from the Legion. I serve the High Queen of Skyrim, and no one else." He made a sound of mock interest. She finally looked at him again, seeing him still smirking at her. She said in a near hiss, "I quit the Legion for her, knowing she was with Ulfric. I laid down my oath to the Emperor to give my oath to her, to follow her wherever she went, even if it meant here."

"And when I quit the Legion it was to follow Ulfric wherever he went, even if meant to Sovngarde." She stared at him, her lips pursed, then she looked away. Galmar said, "That's all right, Rikke. You'll come around. If you spend any amount of time here you _will_ come around."

"Not likely," she said irritably, "and where the hell is your wife, anyway? Shouldn't she be here keeping you in line?" Galmar's eyes widened then he blinked, his tongue in his cheek.

"Low blow," he muttered. "Really damn low, even for you."

Rikke watched in confusion as he turned away from her and slid down the bench as far as he could get, and a sudden sickening realization went through her. Feeling like an ass, she nearly got up to apologize when a cheer went up outside from the gathered throng. So Galmar's wife had passed away. It made her feel terrible. She'd had no idea. Bryn hadn't mentioned it at all, but then it hadn't really come up. Galmar's wife Eldi had been much too young to die of natural causes. Sighing heavily, Rikke knew she would have to apologize to him after the wedding. He was right that they were going to be stuck in close proximity to each other for a very long time, and more than that she didn't want to leave him thinking she was a despicable human being. Because only a despicable human being would needle someone about a dead wife.

She gave Lydia and Farkas brief smiles as they sat down in front of her next to Galmar, and soon after Brunwulf Free-Winter and the steward Jorleif took seats on either side of her. She kept her attention off Galmar as best she could as the priestess Jora came out to stand before the shrine. More cheers went up from those packed into the temple, and soon Bryn and Ulfric came into view, holding hands. The young woman's cheeks were flushed with pink, and a wreath of snowberries adorned her head. Rikke had to admit that Ulfric actually looked rather handsome in his finest garb of shades of blue, his hair loose instead of bound as it usually was, and the broad grin on his face as he gazed at his bride just about broke Rikke's heart. He really did love her. Rikke knew he did, but to see it shining from him like that was moving. They made a striking pair, the same height, gazing into each other's eyes as if no one else existed here but the two of them, both hands joined together between them. Oh, but Ulfric looked so much older than Bryn though, especially as fresh and maidenly as she looked today. The age difference was stark indeed to Rikke's eyes, but she had never tried to sway Bryn from her feelings for Ulfric. The Dragonborn was extremely strong-willed at times, and Rikke had to admit that they did seem to make a good couple other than the age gap. Time would tell if the love was great enough to keep two domineering natures from clashing disastrously.

Jora raised her hands and the temple went silent, then the crowd outside began shushing each other, the door left open to the city so those gathered had some chance of hearing. Her hands fell as she said, "We are gathered here today under the eyes of mighty Talos to celebrate the joining of these two souls in the most sacred of bonds: that of matrimony. A true marriage is more than the joining of two persons; it is the union of two hearts. It lives on the love you give each other and never grows old, but thrives on the joy of each new day. Shared joy is double joy. Shared sorrow is half sorrow.

"Love keeps the cold out better than any cloak. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. Now you will fear no dark, for each of you will be light to the other. Know that marriage is not a perfect beginning. It's not a clean slate. Marriage is a process. Marriage is growth. Marriage is a bold step into an unknown future. It is risking who we are for the sake of who we can be. These two come before us today not as Queen and Jarl, but as woman and man, to be joined as wife and husband." Jora looked out at the congregants and asked, "Who stands today for the bride and gives her their blessing?"

Lydia stood and stated firmly, "I do, as her sister and friend, as her sword and her shield."

"And who stands for the groom and gives him their blessing?"

Galmar stood and gruffly said, "I do, as brother and friend, as his sword and his shield."

"Brynhilde, do you come to this marriage of your own free will and accord?"

"I do," Bryn said in a trembling voice, tears stinging her eyes. Ulfric's eyes were shining as well, his grip on her hands tightening at her words. She had never seen him as purely happy as he was at this moment. He had been thrilled ever since she had suggested being married in Windhelm, in the Temple of Talos, something he hadn't even considered doing, but his eyes had lit up at the mention of it. It seemed only right that they start their marriage under the eyes of the god they both fought for, in the city where they would make their home together.

"Ulfric, do you come to this marriage of your own free will and accord?"

"Yes I do," he stated in a strong voice. Bryn's hands squeezed his and he could feel her trembling, the look in her golden eyes nearly making him lose it. He had imagined the wedding would be a simple formality, something to get out of the way so they could begin their life together, but the priestess' words were surprisingly moving. Galmar and Lydia held out the rings to him and Bryn, polished circles of ebony, fit for warriors.

As Lydia and Galmar took their seats Jora asked, "Brynhilde, do you take this man Ulfric as your husband, to honor and cherish, in sickness and in health, in war and in peace, so long as you both shall live?"

"I do," she said.

"Ulfric, do you take this woman Brynhilde as your wife, to honor and cherish, in sickness and in health, in war and in peace, so long as you both shall live?"

"Yes I do," he repeated.

"Place the rings on each other's fingers." She beamed at the couple as they did so, giddy smiles on their faces. Jora found the look on Ulfric's face charming, considering all the time he had spent in the Temple of Talos over the years, alone, praying for strength and guidance with a grim expression. She went on, "All things in nature are circular…night becomes day, day becomes night and night becomes day again. The moons wax and wane and wax again. There is Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter and then the Spring returns. These things are part of the Great Mysteries. These circles of ebony, like the Mysteries of the Nine Divines, are without beginning or end." Jora picked up a silver goblet full of mead and held it up to the statue, saying loudly, "Mighty Talos, sanctify this marriage, so that this man and woman may find the strength in each other to persevere against all odds. Like the stones beneath our feet let their love be firm; like the stars overhead let their love be constant. Let them have patience with one another, for storms will come, but they will pass quickly." The crowd gasped as thunder pealed overhead, startling even the priestess. "Talos be praised!" she cried reverently, hearing her call answered behind her by the couple and the congregants, spreading in waves to the crowd outside where the call was taken up.

Her heart swelling from the god's blessing, Jora turned to Ulfric and Bryn, holding the goblet out to them. They took it in their joined hands as she said, "This cup of mead is symbolic of the cup of life. As you share the cup of each other's offering, you undertake to share all that the future may bring. All the sweetness that life's cup may hold for you will be the sweeter because you drink it together. Whatever drops of bitterness it may contain will be less bitter because you share them." Ulfric offered the first drink to Bryn, who offered it in turn to Ulfric, smiling at each other over the rim of the goblet. Jora took it back and dipped her fingers into the mead, flicking drops of it onto the Shrine of Talos. She set the goblet down and said, "Brynhilde and Ulfric, may the warmth and light of your union be blessed. May you know the best of fortune, and your life together be one of joy and prosperity. Do you swear to keep sacred your vows?"

"We do," they murmured.

"Then seal your promise with a kiss." Ulfric laughed as Bryn giggled and they leaned in to give each other a lingering kiss, to the sound of _awws_ and sighs of delight. Jora couldn't help finding the sight of her Jarl kissing a woman disconcerting, but she was truly happy for him and his obvious joy. Now if she could just get her own husband Lortheim to pull his head out of his backside and start paying more attention to their marriage. He was at the doorway, controlling access to the temple, and as she glanced at him she saw him gazing at her with an uncertain expression, almost as if he could read her thoughts. Well, maybe if he actually asked her about her thoughts once in a while he wouldn't have to. Jora lifted her hands to the congregants and said, "What the Divines have brought together, let no Man or Mer put asunder. People of Windhelm, I present to you Brynhilde and Ulfric, husband and wife."

As the folk cheered and whistled Lydia felt Farkas' arm go around her and hug her close, and she leaned into him and sighed as Ulfric put his arm around Bryn's neck and pulled her against him for a deep kiss. They leaned their foreheads together and whispered to each other, practically glowing, and it made Lydia's heart ache for Vilkas no matter how glad she was for Bryn. Ulfric did truly love her, with none of the reserve Vilkas had always kept, and Bryn loved Ulfric back just as deeply, but it made Lydia terribly sad to know Bryn and Vilkas still loved each other. It didn't seem right to marry another when part of your heart still belonged to someone else. Lydia didn't blame Bryn for walking away when she had, but it seemed that the two should have tried again after spending some time apart to think things over. If there was still so much love there that Vilkas had drunk himself into a stupor over it then surely there had still been a chance to work everything out. Well, it was truly too late now. Bryn was another man's wife, at Vilkas' urging of all things. Vilkas would just have to immerse himself in work and hope time really did heal all wounds.

* * *

"Galmar."

"What do you want now, Rikke?" he grumbled. He stopped to warm his hands by the brazier in the courtyard front of the Palace of Kings, watching the guards dispersing the crowd, still buzzing over the wedding. Bryn and Ulfric had just gone inside, but not before Bryn had taken off her circlet of snowberries and tossed it to the crowd, where it was caught by a stunned Nilsine Shatter-Shield. The ceremony had certainly been a touching one, almost enough to bring a tear to the eye. The Dragonborn had earned his undying loyalty for making Ulfric so deeply happy. He would have given anything over the years to see his Jarl and closest friend smile like that.

"I want to apologize."

Galmar looked at her out of the corner of his eye and drawled, "Is that so." He had to admit that she did look deeply troubled, an expression of guilt on her face, a face that was still pretty after all these years, though harder, and as lined as his. Her thirty-odd years in the Legion had definitely put an edge on her that hadn't been there when they were young. Never having a husband and family hadn't helped either.

"Yes, that is so," she said in a pleading tone. "Arkay help me, I had no idea. About Eldi. None at all." He grunted and frowned, looking away from her to the brazier. She moved closer to him and quietly said, "I am _sorry._ I truly am. Brynhilde never said a word about it to me. Not that she should have. I shouldn't have said what I did, even if…well." He nodded slowly, his frown easing a bit. She grimaced then said, "You were right. You were a convenient target. I…wasn't happy about coming here. I'm still not. I'd follow my Queen anywhere, but this was the last place I wanted to go."

"Huh. Well, I suppose I wouldn't be any happier if Ulfric suddenly announced he was going to go live in Castle Dour."

"I'm a daughter of Skyrim before all else, no matter what uniform I wore. There are no more uniforms for me."

"So I suppose you expect me to stop wearing that…what did you call it, smelly rug?"

"I expect nothing. I just…wanted to make peace."

Galmar debated drawing it out a bit longer, but for Bryn's sake he would do this. And for the sake of the friendship he and Ulfric had once shared with Rikke. "All right, apology accepted," he relented.

"Thank you." When he didn't move to go inside she asked, "So…when?"

"About three years ago. The rot. Started getting pains in her womb. She spent the last four months of her life in bed in agony. Took her own life with poison, with me and the girls at her side to see her off."

Rikke whispered painfully, "Ah gods Galmar… I'm so sorry."

He shrugged one shoulder, staring at the glowing coals. "What can you do, eh? You never know how many years you'll have together. I told Ulfric that the morning after he asked our lady to marry him, when he was agonizing over it. He knows how old he is, and how young she is. Well, Eldi and I were four months apart in age, and here I am, and she's gone." He heard a sound of anguish from Rikke and saw she was honestly upset for his sake, gazing past him at the bronze doors to the Palace of Kings. "Never married, huh?"

"Ugh, no," she said with a shake of her head. "I enjoyed my career too much. My freedom, my space. Never had any desire for kids either. I watched Queen Brynhilde with the Companion's baby girl and saw the yearning in her, but…never had it. I like kids well enough, I suppose. Haven't been around them enough to know, I guess."

"Well, my oldest daughter married about six months ago, and from the way she and her man hang all over each other you would think I'd have a grandchild on the way by now."

Rikke laughed, "Grandpa Galmar?"

"It has a nice ring to it," he said with mock defensiveness. He heard a cheer go up inside the palace and said, "Time to go in. I'm not letting the party start without me." He hesitated then offered her his arm, and she smiled at him and took it. He couldn't help noticing she still had those dimples that had driven all the young men crazy back then. Well then…he might have to give this some thought. They were going to be living in close quarters for a good many years. Maybe they could get comfortable enough with each other to provide a little comfort now and then, ease each other's loneliness. As much as she might try to hide it, Rikke would get lonely here if she kept holding herself apart from her former enemies. They weren't enemies anymore.

"Thanks to the Dragonborn, your grandchildren will grow up in peace, without looking over their shoulders for Thalmor Justiciars. I just hope…it would be nice if she and Ulfric can enjoy married life for a bit before another war starts."

"If you call hunting vampires enjoying married life, sure."

Rikke snorted a confident laugh. "I don't foresee too many problems there. After Alduin the vampires should be child's play. I suppose I'll have to commission a new set of armor, but…this should be interesting. I've never done any adventuring. Frankly I'm not sure I'm suited to it, especially at my age, but her housecarl Lydia is with child. Early yet, but I don't think that husband of hers will let her out of his sight."

"Hm, as well he shouldn't, and woe to the one who lays a hand on her." Farkas of the Companions was one of the biggest men he had ever seen, even by Nord standards, and as a member of the Circle he was no one to be trifled with, but then neither was Lydia. He laughed and added, "And woe to anyone that lays a hand on him! She was at the Queen's back most of the first year she was here." And the big man trailed behind his wife following her every order, so it was obvious who wore the pants in that marriage, but that worked for some men, and he seemed a simple, affable fellow, impossible to not like.

"Yes, I really would rather have her with us," she said with regret. "The Queen speaks glowingly of her and her abilities, but she won't hear of taking Lydia out of Whiterun, and I don't blame her. They're as close as sisters and she doesn't want to risk her, especially now."

"Huh. Well Ulfric and I are closer than brothers, and he's never had a problem risking me."

Seeing he was being a little facetious, Rikke said, "Well, it's different with women, and our Queen has a very tender heart. And a bit of a martyr complex, but don't tell anyone I said that."

"I've noticed."

As they paused before one large door Rikke said in a lowered voice, "I'm happy for Ulfric, Galmar. I mean that. I don't remember ever seeing him smile like that, even way back when."

"Because he's never been in love before." He ran his tongue over his teeth, wondering what more he should say, and he began, "As you said, our Queen has a tender heart. She considers herself a champion of those in need. Ulfric…he was in need. He has been for a very, very long time." Rikke frowned, nodding slowly. Galmar muttered, "You can't imagine, Rikke. What they did to him. Whatever you might imagine, what those pointy-eared bastards did was worse. Much worse. Unforgivable."

She made a sound of grief and whispered, "That's what Brynhilde said. That's all she would say."

"I don't even know the full extent of what they did to him, but…she knows. She knows and she would destroy anyone who ever dreamed of harming him. She only let Elisif do what she did because Ulfric agreed to it, and because she would be right there to hold him up and heal him. I love her because she protects my lord in body, heart and mind. I saw him begin to heal right before my eyes after the first night she spent with him. I saw him start to change before that, after the first talk they had, when she gave him the dossier. She showed him another way. She showed all of us."

"Myself included," Rikke admitted. "And Tullius."

"And the Emperor, no doubt." He grunted and went on, "But that's a fish to fry another day. Right now we have a wedding to celebrate. I'm going to get you so drunk you'll be dancing on the tables before sunset."

"Not if I drink you under those tables first, old goat."

Galmar laughed and offered her his arm again, and she gave him a dimpled smile and took it as they went inside. Yes, this could work out.

* * *

**A/N: go to Deviantart and search 'Galmar' for a picture of him out of his bear uniform. I was stunned...he's actually a rather good-looking old man. Who would've thunk!**


	38. Chapter 38

Rikke wrinkled her nose as she and Bryn walked through Riften's gates. "Stinks as much as Maven's ethics," she grumbled. It hadn't always been like this, either. Riften had once been the jewel of Skyrim, warm and welcoming, bustling with trade from both Morrowind and Cyrodiil. Now the canal through the city was closed up, stagnant, and the buildings shabby.

"Maven will do something about it," Bryn said confidently, "if she knows what's good for her."

"I'm not so sure she does, my lady."

"Then it's up to me to tell her." People bowed or curtseyed to her as she passed, something she still wasn't used to after two weeks as High Queen. Things were coming along nicely so far; Ulfric had ordered his camps disbanded and his soldiers sent back to their home holds, with a strong suggestion to join that hold's guards and be of some use, and Tullius had pulled his troops out of their camps and reduced Imperial presence in the cities the Empire had once controlled. The various Legates were still stationed there, for now, but Bryn was going to leave it up to the Jarls as to what they wanted done about that. Legate Fasendil was stationed here in Riften, and Bryn wanted to talk to him when she was done with Maven.

She felt a little guilty for waiting this long to see what had been bothering Maven at the Moot, but she had been enjoying married life with Ulfric for a little bit and getting Rikke properly equipped for the road. The older woman obviously couldn't keep going around in Imperial armor, so they had visited Oengul War-Anvil's smithy to see what he had available. Rikke had been horrified when Bryn had offered to buy her ebony, and had instead accepted steel plate armor. Bryn herself had upgraded and fitted the gear, knowing tricks Oengul didn't for quieting and fortifying the armor, which would be necessary if Rikke wanted to hunt vampires with her; Bryn had also taken Rikke's armor and shield upstairs to Wuunferth's room and enchanted all of it, making especially certain that the heavy boots were muffled.

Ulfric had watched most of the process and had found her actions confusing but intriguing, having never seen her do…well, much of anything. He would have to get used to it; she wasn't about to give up any of the things she enjoyed doing, and smithing was one of them. Oengul had been more than happy to let her use his forge, asking only the privilege of assisting her; his assistant had been less than happy and had refused to be around when Bryn was. Hermir had for some time had a not-very-secret crush on Ulfric, and only the fact that Bryn was Dragonborn had let the girl find their marriage even halfway acceptable. Oengul had recently finished a set of 'royal' armor in ebony for Ulfric and was finishing up some detailing on it with Hermir's help; Bryn thought she would gift her husband with the ebony shield she had left here in Riften right before Farkas and Lydia's wedding, maybe after engraving the bear of Eastmarch on it. It would make a nice (late) wedding gift. Or birthday gift. Her poor husband was not taking the prospect of turning fifty well.

Rikke murmured, "You're getting that look again, my Queen." Bryn sighed happily, making Rikke chuckle. She had to admit, Ulfric did make a very devoted husband. It had been very poignant watching him and Bryn feed each other all through the wedding feast, as was the custom in Skyrim, and while he hadn't gotten drunk he had put away more mead than she had expected and halfway through the celebration had pulled Bryn into his lap, to everyone's delight. It had been one hell of a party, that was for certain, probably the first one the Palace of Kings had seen since Ulfric's own parents had gotten married. Rikke herself had gotten more than a little plastered, and she had the feeling she had gotten much friendlier with Galmar than she had intended to, though she knew she hadn't slept with him. She had awakened in her own room anyway. It wasn't a comfortable area of thought, and he had stopped wearing the bear helm since then. He still wore a Stormcloak officer's bear armor, but not the head. Rikke wondered anxiously if he had stopped because of her. He was certainly acting more warmly toward her, maybe even flirtatiously, and it made her uneasy. She hoped she hadn't given him the wrong idea that night. She'd been completely drunk. Surely he understood that.

Well, they hadn't left Windhelm soon enough. Rikke was settling in there, but they were still working on integrating what would become Bryn's court with Ulfric's. Bryn refused to sit on the Throne of Ysgramor, and to be honest Ulfric seemed reluctant to give it up, but so far it hadn't been an issue. As long as Bryn kept traveling Skyrim they could put it off. Rikke frankly thought there was a benefit in Bryn visiting the holds for now; it showed the common folk that she cared for their well-being and was seeing to it personally, and it reminded the Jarls that she could show up at pretty much any moment to see how they were managing their holds. Rikke felt the Queen needed more of an entourage, something she was still trying to convince Bryn of the need for; obviously Bryn could protect herself with ridiculous ease, but she needed to have more of a presence when she was traveling about. None of the remaining housecarls could fit the bill, as Bryn had a great deal of accumulated coin and loot in all three houses, not to mention vast stores of dragon remains, that needed guarding. Rikke thought she might suggest to Bryn having houses built in those holds that didn't have them, staffed with housecarls. It would take some pressure off the various Jarls hosting her, while also making them aware that Bryn had a stake in every hold. Whiterun wasn't an issue, as Balgruuf was a good friend of Bryn's and would be more than happy to host her. But as for adding another guard for the Queen, well, she would have to keep her eyes open. She was sure Galmar could find a worthy young warrior to fit the bill, but Windhelm was already too heavily biased toward the Stormcloaks. At fifty-two Rikke wasn't a youngster, no matter how fit she was or how well she kept up her training; her second needed to be young and quick.

They reached Honeyside and knocked before going in, and Iona sprang up from her seat in surprise. "My thane, I mean my Queen!" she cried. She bowed awkwardly, not sure what to do, then Bryn laughed and swept her into a hug. She stiffened then patted the other woman's back, and Bryn mercifully let go. "I heard about your wedding, my lady. I'm very happy for you."

"Thank you, I'm happy for myself for once," she replied as Iona took their bags. "Any news? Regarding Maven specifically?" Iona glanced at Rikke, and Bryn said, "Oh, I'm sorry. This is my chamberlain, Rikke, former Legate in the Imperial army."

"I've heard. Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

"And you," Rikke said with a nod. She looked around the house and made a sound of appreciation. "This is truly lovely. What a wonderful house. So warm and inviting."

Bryn said, "It's my favorite of all the houses. I think I've spent more time here than anywhere. Iona does a wonderful job caring for it, and you wouldn't believe what she went through defending this place against the Thieves Guild while I was with the Greybeards." Iona smiled proudly, and Bryn patted her on the shoulder. "We might be here for a few days, Iona, then I'm heading to check out the Dawnguard."

"Yes my lady," Iona answered. "But…Maven."

"Yes?"

"She's been acting terribly odd," she stated in a lowered voice. "She hasn't been seen outside Mistveil Keep since before the Moot, and you know how she liked walking around lording it over people, even before she became Jarl." Bryn nodded. "Her sons have been lying low as well. She let Sibbi out of prison a few weeks ago, and neither of them have been seen leaving the Keep either."

"What about Ingun?"

Iona frowned and rubbed her chin, saying, "Honestly, I haven't seen her around, my lady. Though I do often go weeks at a time without seeing her, with as much time as she spends down at Elgrim's."

"Hm. Well, I suppose I'll find out soon enough what's going on. I wanted to show Rikke the house and some of the things I've found in my travels, then we're off to the Keep, after I say hello to a few people."

"Yes my lady."

Bryn took Rikke's arm and led her over to the chest in the bedroom. Rikke said with anticipation, "I can't begin to guess what treasures you've found, with all the places you've been."

"All sorts of odd things," Bryn said in agreement. She pushed open the chest and Rikke peered inside, making an ooh sound of amazement. Bryn handed her the black mask on top, and the older woman hesitated before taking it, seeming reluctant to touch it. When she took it she turned it over in her hands, looking at the word engraved on the inside in runes. "_Nahkriin_. Vengeance. He was guarding the portal to Sovngarde."

"Shor's bones," Rikke whispered.

"Yes, well he did a poor job of it. Skuldafn was a challenge, I'll admit, but not as much of one as I expected. I took Nahkriin out with two Daedric arrows in the back before he ever saw me. You would think he would have wondered where his _Inseiiz_ and _Inseyol_ went. _Mey._" Seeing Rikke's confusion, she murmured, "Sorry. Masters of ice and fire. Two enormous dragons, probably the toughest I've fought other than Alduin, but in the end just as dead and their souls taken as any other. _Mey_…fool." She took Nahkriin's mask from Rikke. "All the undead I've fought have been extremely limited in their mental capacity. The vampires I've come across have been cunning, but no more cunning than bandits. That's why I feel there is more to their actions lately, maybe some master vampire directing them to some ultimate purpose. I don't plan on lingering here any longer than I have to."

Iona raised her voice and said, "My lady, a young man passed through town a few days ago when I was in the market, saying he was going to join the Dawnguard." She snorted and added, "He looked fresh off the farm. He'll be lucky if he makes it to Dayspring Canyon alive, let alone makes it as far as fighting vampires."

"I suppose I'll see if he did." She set the mask down and pulled out a dragon scale. Rikke was familiar with Bryn's armor but hadn't seen an unforged scale. As Rikke was inspecting it Bryn eyed her steel sword and asked, "Are you sure you don't want something better than that?"

Rikke looked up in surprise then followed Bryn's line of sight. "This?" she asked, patting the sword. "Oh no. You've done enough, my Queen, and I'm used to it."

"I have a whole rack of swords downstairs that I'll never use. Go pick one."

"I couldn't—" She dropped the scale on the bed as Bryn took her arm and pulled her along, and she sighed and let the girl take her downstairs. "Ahh," she said with interest as they entered the armory slash enchanting room. Her eyes widened at the sight of a full set of Dwemer armor on a mannequin, gleaming in the low light, and a set of Daedric armor on the other, complete with shields and helms. "Gorgeous," she whispered in awe. Bryn motioned to the weapon racks on the walls and Rikke couldn't help feeling a surge of greed. There were a number of magical bows on plaques as well, but Rikke was more than happy with the hand-me-down ebony bow of lightning that Bryn had given her in Solitude (which was better than anything here) right after the soon-to-be-Queen had crafted herself a bow of dragon bone. Rikke shook her head and whispered, "This is overwhelming. An Emperor's ransom."

"Which is why the Guild was so eager to get in here. Lydia is sitting on nearly as much loot in Breezehome; Jordis and Argis not so much." She paused then said thoughtfully, "Poor Argis. I hardly spent any time in Markarth. I suppose I'll have to swing by there one of these days. I've been meaning to collect all the dragon priest masks, and I think I left a couple there."

"What for?" Rikke asked, venturing to take down an odd sword on the end of the rack. While the grip and cross-guard seemed to be made of ebony, the blade itself was tan, seeming to not be made of metal at all.

"When I was doing some jobs for the College of Winterhold, I spent some time in Labyrinthian."

"Ugh."

"Yes, not a nice place, but not much worse than a lot of places I've been. I found this odd little mound at the center, and inside was a skeleton, some poor Breton scholar who had gotten murdered by his Orc hirelings. They left his mask with him, a wooden mask that looked a lot like the Dragon Priest masks I've found. It didn't have any engraving on the back, but when I put it on…" She frowned, not sure how to put it. "I was in the same place, but it wasn't a ruin anymore. I was in a room with a carving with eight Dragon Priest busts, and a dragon head at the center and one on each side. I wonder what would happen if I took all eight masks I have and put them on the busts?"

Horrified, Rikke said, "Tell me you won't!" Bryn laughed, looking thoughtful as her eyes sparkled, and Rikke gave up trying to dissuade her. She wasn't even going to start. Her lady Queen would do whatever she wanted to, and all Rikke could do was back her up and be a voice of caution. It was damn exciting though. She had traveled all over Tamriel during her career and had seen some crazy things, but there was plenty of crazy right here in her own homeland. Just looking at all this treasure that Bryn had collected in the short time she had been here was bewildering.

Bryn motioned with her chin to the sword that Rikke was idly swinging about, and she said with a grin, "Like that one?"

"It's fantastic," Rikke said with all honesty. "Heavier than what I'm used to, but perfectly balanced. I've never seen anything like it."

"There is nothing else like it. I made it of dragon bone." The woman's eyes widened as she stopped swinging it. "Do you want it? I can always make another. I'll never use it." She was much too attached to Dawnbreaker and Chillrend to use anything else.

"Are you sure, my lady?"

"Yes, completely. It was sort of an experiment, something to fill my time when I was here in Riften, before I went to Ulfric. I wanted to show it to Eorlund and see what he thought of it, and my bow, but…" She shrugged. She was a better smith than anyone she had ever met, but her skill had always made her feel like a fraud somehow. Eorlund and Oengul had become Master Smiths through years of apprenticeship and hard work, while it was only her preternatural ability to absorb skills quickly that had made her what she was. Ulfric had impressed on her that there was no shame in that, any more than she should feel ashamed of her natural ability to Shout when he'd had to study and practice for years to learn the one Shout he knew. Bryn never had seen him use the _thu'um_, though once they went to war she was sure she would see and hear it plenty. It seemed fitting that her mate could use dragon Shouts; he wasn't Dragonborn, but he was the next best thing. She had to wonder, hypothetically, what it would be like to meet another Dragonborn. Would they be drawn to each other, or would they feel compelled to destroy each other? She supposed she would never know. She liked to think she would come out on top in a fight though.

"Then I would be honored," Rikke said sincerely. Bryn clearly wanted her to have it, and it was only right that she should have a distinguished weapon to defend her Queen with. It did seem silly to keep using her old steel Legionnaire's sword when Bryn was using legendary weapons.

Bryn motioned with her head toward the enchanting table, and Rikke followed her over. "What enchantment would you like on it? I've been thinking about a way to put two enchantments at a time on items. Maybe we could try it now?"

"I ah…I don't know." She already felt like a walking tank with the gear she already had. Her shield was enchanted to fortify her ability to block and absorb blows; her helm increased her archery ability; her gauntlets increased her skill in one-handed weapons; her boots were muffled, making her steps silent; her armor was enchanted to constantly regenerate her stamina; and she wore a ring that would quickly regenerate her health if she was wounded. Bryn had told her she had enchanted everything of Lydia's, and intended to enchant Ulfric's armor when Oengul was done with it.

"I've always liked the shock enchantments," Bryn said as she pulled down a filled black soul gem from a shelf; Azura's Star was in her pack upstairs and was unfortunately filled with a lesser soul. "Almost nothing exists that can defend against it, and it's especially effective against magic users."

"The Thalmor, in other words."

"Exactly. And many vampires." Rikke handed her the sword and she placed it across the enchanting desk, setting the soul gem on the cross-guard. She got down a potion on another shelf and set it aside then stared at the sword for a moment, pondering her choices. "I hate to make the enchantments specific to any one type of enemy. So I'll stick with shock damage. A number of beings are resistant or immune to frost or fire, so neither of those. I do know an enchantment that saps an enemy's stamina. All right then." Bryn bit her bottom lip, flexing her fingers, then she guzzled down the potion to fortify her enchanting ability then slapped one hand down on the destruction sigil on the table while laying the other on the sword's blade. The glass globe began to glow and swirl greenly, and Bryn focused her entire attention and will on forcing both enchantments into the sword, not entirely sure what was going to happen. She kept in mind the lessons she had learned in Twin Secrets, an enchanter's memoirs that she had found in a Forsworn lair. _See one enchantment with the eyes; hear the other with the ears_ she reminded herself. The soul gem made a cracking/pinging sound then disintegrated into the sword.

Rikke held her breath, still not used to seeing such things with her own eyes. She had spent so many decades in the Legion with battlemages and soldiers of all races that magic use didn't faze her the way it did Nords who had never left their homeland, but she was accustomed to seeing it on the battlefield, not being applied like this. She had never put much thought into what it took to enchant a weapon. Bryn rubbed her eyes, seeming drained, and Rikke asked softly, "Are you all right, my lady?"

"Yes, but…" she whispered. "Ugh. That was…hard." Enchanting was mentally exhausting, the more so the stronger the enchantment, and her brain felt so fuzzy right now all she wanted to do was lie down and take a nap, even though she wasn't physically tired. She shook her head and opened her eyes, trying to focus, then she picked up the sword and held it up to the light. She waved it around and saw intermingled swirls of green and purple, and she laughed in triumph and held it out to Rikke. "Look at that!" she cried happily. "It worked! Wait until I tell Sergius at the College about this! He won't believe it!"

Rikke breathed, "Unbelievable!" She carefully took the sword from Bryn and touched the blade, seeing the magic swirl in eddies of purple and green that were mesmerizing.

"_Fahliil-Kriid,_" Bryn murmured. Rikke glanced at her questioningly, and she smiled and stated, "Elf-Slayer."

"By the grace of Talos," Rikke whispered, her skin prickling with goose bumps. She shivered at the sensation of having witnessed something momentous. She whispered to Bryn, "I would follow you to Oblivion and back, my Queen!"

Bryn smiled and put her hands on Rikke's shoulders and said, "You set aside your entire life's work, gave up your retirement, to follow me. You will have a hand in making me the Stormcrown Queen, the one that Elves will whisper about to their children a thousand years from now. We will terrify them so greatly that they will never dare to make war on Man again." Rikke nodded, staring at her with shining eyes, and Bryn patted her shoulders and said, "But first, let's see what Maven was in a tizzy about at the Moot. I hope we aren't too late." And if they were, well, it was Maven's own fault for getting herself into the mess to begin with by selling herself out to too many factions.

The dragonbone sword fit neatly into the old sword's scabbard, and Rikke followed Bryn upstairs and into the heart of the city. Everyone had a word of greeting for Bryn, and when she stopped by Balimund's forge, The Scorched Hammer, he grinned at her and bowed deeply, making her _tsk_ and shake her head. They exchanged a few pleasantries and Rikke couldn't help admiring the smith, who seemed to admire her back, though there was a good ten year age gap there. He was even more admiring of the sword and glad it was being used. Rikke thought she might step out tonight for a drink and see if the smith was around and interested in some company.

When they entered Mistveil Keep, Maven was nowhere to be seen, though her son/steward Hemming was seated next to the throne. His expression tightened when Bryn entered, though he stood and bowed stiffly to her. Bryn noted the open hostility in the housecarl, Maul, and it immediately set her off.

"Majesty," Hemming mumbled. "Welcome to Mistveil Keep."

"Hello Hemming. Where is Jarl Maven? She's doing well, I hope?"

"She's…indisposed."

"What is the housecarl's problem?"

Hemming blinked and stammered, "E-excuse me?"

"Why does Maul keep glaring at me?" Hemming didn't seem to know what to say, and Maul's expression didn't change one bit. Fed up, Bryn walked past the steward to Maul, stopping not two feet from him. He was breathing heavily as if it was taking all his willpower to not attack her. "All right you, out with it. Now."

Maul sneered, "I don't know what you're talking about, your _royal_ Majesty." His head rocked back as Rikke surged forward and punched him in the face. The native Riften guards moved to jump in then caught themselves, realizing they had no authority to do so. The two Imperial guards simply smirked.

Rikke hissed, "That is your High Queen you're speaking to, dog!"

"She murdered my brother!" he snarled, cradling his face.

"Ah," Bryn said in understanding. "So he was one of the thieves then. Which one…let me guess, with your very imaginative name…Dirge?" His lack of answer told her yes. "I wiped out a nest of thieves. Perhaps you should have saved your brother from his life of crime and then it wouldn't have been an issue." He glared, probably imagining all the ways he'd like to kill her. "I want to talk to Maven. Now. Where is she?" Maul didn't answer, and she turned to look at Hemming. "Please don't make me say it again. I'm out of patience."

Hemming hurried past her, muttering, "This way, my lady."

Bryn and Rikke followed him into the back hall then up a set of stairs, Bryn noticing an Altmer in Imperial armor who had to be Legate Fasendil standing in a back room with a perplexed look on his face. She gave him a brief smile and he inclined his head politely to her, saluting to Rikke as well who returned it in kind. Once upstairs Hemming knocked on a door then opened it and left without a word or a bow, making Rikke's jaw clench at the rudeness of it. Bryn shook her head and went into the room, to see Maven sitting in front of the fire, worrying at something in her hands. The older woman surged to her feet as Bryn came in and closed the door.

"Where have you been!" Maven cried.

"Enjoying my new husband," she retorted. "So what's wrong? I know damn well the Empire paid you to vote for me, so who has their hooks in you now?"

"The Thalmor. They have my daughter. My only daughter."

"That makes no sense."

"What does anymore!"

"One vote wasn't enough. Even two out of nine holds wouldn't have been enough, if Elisif hadn't wised up. The Thalmor aren't stupid. Over-confident, but not stupid." Maven made a sound of frustration and went to a side table and yanked open a drawer then brought over a folded letter that looked like it had been read and reread a dozen times. Bryn opened it and read:

_Jarl Maven Black-Briar,_

_We have your daughter. If you value her life, you will vote against the Dragonborn in the upcoming Moot. You will do everything in your power to humiliate her and her lover, Ulfric. Do this or you will start receiving body parts._

_The Thalmor_

Bryn shook her head and handed the letter to Rikke, who took a quick look at it and frowned as well, saying, "This really isn't their way of doing things." The writing did have an Elven style to it though, the script flowing and somewhat feminine.

"No, it isn't," Bryn agreed. Maven snatched back the letter, barely contained panic obvious in her eyes. Bryn sighed and said, "Look, I want to help you. I like Ingun-"

"Well thank the Divines for that," Maven snapped.

Rikke growled, "Look you, be glad the Queen is here at all. Do you want her help or not?"

"Yes, of course." The two other women stared at her, and she swallowed her pride and lowered her eyes. "I…would appreciate…whatever help you can give me," she choked out. She knew damn well that Brynhilde could have simply ignored her silent pleas at the Moot. She wouldn't have pleaded that way if she hadn't trusted that no matter how they disliked each other, the Dragonborn would help her. If only she hadn't taken so damn long!

"When did this happen?" Bryn asked.

"Less than a week before the Moot. Hemming found the note on my throne. The night guards said they didn't see anyone put it there, and no one unknown to us has been in the Keep. Elgrim and his wife said she just…didn't show up one day. They didn't notice anything unusual, not that the old geezers would."

"And no contact since? No more notes, nothing?" Maven shook her head. Bryn grimaced in confusion and repeated, "This really makes no sense. This isn't how the Thalmor operate." She folded her arms, thinking. This wasn't her forte, nothing like it had been investigating the murders in Windhelm. Half the guards here were dirty, and their word would be suspect; there was no guaranteeing that Maven's was the only payroll they were on.

Rikke said in a thoughtful tone, "No one unknown to you has been in the Keep. Has anyone _known_ to you been here recently? Any visitors?" At that they saw Maven freeze in place, going white. "Who?"

"Anuriel," Maven whispered.

"Laila's Bosmer steward?" Bryn said in surprise. "Why?" Maven hesitated, and she said impatiently, "Laila is living on my husband's charity, and he has as little tolerance for crime and grift as I do. Less even. If I find out that Anuriel is doing any dirty work in Windhelm I will have them both thrown out." Maven looked troubled by that. Bryn knew that Laila and Maven were still friends, even with what had happened, the former Jarl ever the clueless one. Anuriel was staying in Candlehearth Hall, while Laila and her housecarl Unmid Snow-Shod, Asgeir's cousin, were housed in the Palace of Kings; Ulfric had no tolerance for an Elf living under his roof. Laila had made herself very scarce while Bryn was around, thereby avoiding a lecture from her on just how clueless she had been.

"Anuriel was passing messages along. To Laila's sons. And…me. But…" Maven shook her head. "Surely she isn't involved in this! She knows her life wouldn't be worth spit if she was."

"Did you see her talking to anyone? Anything suspicious?"

"No, nothing out of the ordinary. Not…" Maven trailed off, her jaw clenching as her breathing grew uneven. "Maul." Bryn and Rikke looked at each other, seeming unsurprised. She hissed, "Hemming saw them talking late one night, after everyone else had gone to bed. He got back up to…well, none of your business, but when he told me about it he thought it odd, seeing as how the two have never gotten along, and…" She swallowed and choked out, "Maul thinks he's in love with Ingun. He asked me for her hand in marriage, after I became Jarl. I told him… I told him he was on skooma if he thought he was good enough for my little girl. And Ingun detests him." Bryn slowly nodded, looking coldly angry, her fingers drumming on the pommels of her swords. Maven closed her eyes, feeling like a fool. It had to be Maul, with Anuriel's help. Maybe the Elf hoped to get Laila back on the throne of Riften, somehow, and Maul had gotten her help forging the letter. And Maul had taken Ingun…somewhere. She whispered to Bryn, "Please…do whatever you have to do."

Bryn turned and strode out of the room, calling over her shoulder, "Better make your guards aware of that, Jarl Maven, or this is going to get messy." She didn't bother to see what the woman did, throwing the door open and going downstairs, Rikke close on her heels. In the main hall she saw nothing amiss, though Maul was gone. She asked Hemming, "Where did he go?"

"Who?" Hemming asked unhelpfully.

"The man who kidnapped your sister, idiot," Rikke spat.

"W-what!"

Bryn told Rikke, "Never mind. They're down in the Ratway somewhere. He's a rat; that's where they go." As they went out the front doors of the Keep she heard Maven screaming at Hemming, Sibbi, the guards, everyone within earshot. She didn't stick around to listen, feeling sick with worry over Ingun. The girl was innocent in her family's dealings, though a bit on the morbid side. She was also extremely beautiful. Bryn didn't blame Maul for wanting the girl, but she had the horrid feeling that if they did find Ingun alive…well, a brute like that wouldn't be able to keep his hands, or anything else, to himself. It wasn't hard to see how all this had come about. Maul probably thought he was killing two birds with one stone, in his own stupid way; he made Maven pay for insulting him and mocking his interest in her daughter, he deprived Bryn of a vote, and he got Ingun to himself. He knew he would never get back at Bryn for killing Dirge, but he could get back at Maven for humiliating him.

It took nearly an hour to thoroughly search the Cistern and the Ratway, and it wasn't until they were near the very end of the Warrens that Bryn realized exactly where Maul had stashed Ingun. There were quite comfortable, dry, ready-made quarters there, and all he would have to do is change out the locks on the door to keep her in, instead of keeping others out. She hurried her pace, Rikke right behind her, and found the door cracked open and heard hushed whispering inside.

Ingun whimpered as Bryn rounded the corner of Esbern's old room, and Bryn's blood began to boil when she saw the girl in Maul's arms, a dagger to her throat. The poor thing was naked, a shackle around one ankle, her body covered with bruises in various stages of healing, her lip split. Her nostrils flaring, Bryn thundered at Maul, _"You should have run!"_

"I swear I'll kill her!" Maul shouted. "Maven should have—"

"_TIID KLO UL!"_ Time slowed to a crawl, and Bryn pulled the Blade of Woe as she ran at them, pulling Maul's arm away from Ingun's throat then elbowing him in the face. She dragged him away from the girl then threw him on the floor, stepping on his wrist and breaking it. Time returned to normal as the dagger flew out of his hand and he screamed in pain. Rikke hurried to Ingun to wrap her in a blanket, the girl sobbing hysterically. Bryn knelt on Maul's back on one knee and grabbed his hair, pulling his head back, making him cry out, and she asked, "So, who do you want it to be? Me or Maven?"

Maul hesitated, then he choked, "You." Maven would make sure his death was anything but quick and merciful.

"Wise choice." She glanced at Ingun, who shivered and sniffed in Rikke's arms, the older woman petting her but looking at Bryn with a tight expression. Bryn said to Ingun, "You might want to look away."

"No, I want to see it," Ingun said through gritted teeth. The Dragonborn nodded, not insulting her by asking if she was sure. She flinched as Bryn quickly drew her blade across Maul's throat, staying in place until his gurgling and thrashing stopped. She watched dispassionately as Bryn wiped off the dagger on Maul's back then placed it back in its sheath, and when the taller woman came toward her with glowing hands she shook her head. "No, no healing. I want her to see her handiwork."

"All right. Can you walk?"

"I…think so."

Bryn quickly found the key and unlocked the manacle from the girl's ankle, which was raw and red, most likely infected. She blinked and tried to control herself, feeling another surge of rage go through her, and she nearly told Ingun that Bryn should have killed her mother too when she had the chance. The girl didn't need to hear that. Obviously she knew that her mother's dirty dealings were responsible for this. Bryn had to admire her guts; she didn't think she would be so strong in the face of what Ingun had just been through. In fact she knew she wouldn't have been.

They got her out of the Ratway after some time, the going slow, and several times Bryn had to pick the girl up and carry her for a while when she couldn't go on. Ingun insisted on walking up the steps to Mistveil Keep, and the guards were appropriately horrified by what they saw. Rikke and Bryn stayed on either side of the girl as she limped into the main hall, where her mother was pacing nervously and came to a halt with a strangled cry at the sight of her daughter. Ingun's brothers gaped at her, dismayed, and Bryn kept her mouth shut. No one said a word as Ingun slowly made her way around the table, her head high, the blanket clutched to her chest, barely covering her. It made Bryn want to cry, how dignified the girl was.

"Hello, Mother," Ingun said to Maven, satisfied to see her mother's chin tremble, her eyes filled with tears. "You're going to need a new housecarl."

"Ingun," Maven whispered brokenly. "Oh Ingun…" She looked past her daughter to the other two women, seeing no gloating from either of them, both of them watching Ingun, Rikke's expression stern and Bryn looking heartbroken. Maven hesitated then tentatively reached out for her daughter, who stood stiffly but allowed it. She put her arms around Ingun and whispered to Bryn, "Thank you, Dragonborn. My…Queen."

Bryn murmured, "You're welcome, Jarl Maven." She gently touched Ingun's shoulder and asked, "Now?"

"Yes," the girl said with a nod, and she sighed as warm/cool healing magic flowed through her, easing the soreness and bruising. She hoped to Mara and Arkay both that she wasn't pregnant by the beast, but luckily she knew a number of very effective poisons to deal with that possibility.

Maven said in a trembling voice, "Is he dead?"

Bryn nodded, saying, "I slit his throat in the room where he was holding her. He was threatening to kill her. I gave him the choice between me doing it or you."

"It should have been me!"

"I'm sorry, but if I didn't let Ulfric have Elenwen…well. The crime was done to Ingun, no one else." She leaned toward the girl and softly asked, "Is there anything else you need?"

Ingun shook her head, whispering, "No, you've done enough. I'm grateful for your help, Dragonborn."

"I wish I had come sooner. I had no idea. I'm so sorry—"

"No. You aren't the one who should be sorry." She pulled away from her mother and said, "I want a bath, Mother. Now."

"Yes darling," Maven whispered. Ingun headed for the doorway to the private area of the Keep and Maven hurried after her.

Bryn let out a long breath and turned away, and Rikke followed silently, sensing her lady's subdued mood. She noted that the Jarl's sons and the guards were careful to bow to Bryn as she passed, though Bryn didn't seem to notice. It wasn't until they were on the bridge near Honeyside that Rikke dared to place a hand on the Queen's shoulder, stopping her. "Are you all right, my lady?" she murmured.

"Compared to Ingun, I'm quite fine," Bryn responded softly. She sighed and leaned on the railing to look down at the apothecary shop. "It breaks my heart, Rikke. The things people are capable of doing to each other. Especially…that way."

"That way…er. Oh."

"It's always been such a beautiful thing to me," she said in a pained voice. "Vilkas…from the very start, the very first time, all I ever knew was gentleness and pleasure. Every time was wonderful. And Ulfric has been so good to me, so thoughtful. I can't imagine what it would be like to be…used. Hurt like that."

Rikke quietly said, "Frankly, neither can I. I only hope that someday she can put it behind her."

"Well, if… Yes, me too." She stood away from the railing and headed to Honeyside's front door, saying, "I want to leave as soon as possible tomorrow morning and get this vampire thing over with. I miss my husband."

"Yes, my lady." Rikke followed Bryn inside, where Bryn tactfully filled in Iona on what they had found out. It wasn't until she was heading out the door later that evening to get a drink or two at the Bee and Barb that a sudden sick suspicion finally came to her, so strong and sudden that she had to stop where she was and let the feeling pass. _If I didn't let Ulfric have Elenwen… I miss my husband…_ Bryn and Galmar telling Rikke that no matter what she imagined had been done to Ulfric, the reality was so much worse... "Ah gods, Ulfric," she whispered in grief. She had never imagined that in her worst nightmares. So that was what Galmar had hinted at when he'd said Ulfric had started healing after his first night with Bryn. Put it together with Ulfric's words at the Moot that only Bryn was allowed to see what the Thalmor had done to his body, and Rikke felt like bawling. _Well, if_… If Ulfric could learn to live with the horrors he had experienced, enough to love Bryn, anyone could. Everyone dealt with trauma in different ways, but Ingun seemed strong and resilient. Rikke just wished that Ulfric had been able to find a woman when he was young to help him, and maybe the things he had done could have been avoided, along with so many deaths. She was happy for him and Bryn, now more than ever, but it hurt to think of the pain that had been festering inside him for the last thirty years.

Rikke went on, hearing Balimund hammering away at his forge, and instead of heading his direction she simply went inside the inn and sat down at the bar next to a Dunmer meadery worker, nodding to him in greeting, which he returned. After today's events, for some reason she just wasn't in the mood.


	39. Chapter 39

"Hm, that went well," Rikke muttered sarcastically as they walked away from Fort Dawnguard, leaving two dead vampires and a pile of glowing ash behind them. Isran had been… irritated. Yes, that was a good word for it. Rikke had nearly barked at the man that he should be grateful to have the Queen's personal attention to the matter, but Bryn's hand on her arm had stopped her from saying anything. Rikke wasn't even sure the man knew who Bryn really was. Well, of course he knew. He had to know. Bryn was the only being walking around Tamriel whose voice thundered when she talked. The man's lack of respect and deference had been appalling, and his griping about Bryn carrying a Daedric artifact had been short-sighted. It was a sword created to kill undead, and that should be all that mattered.

"Could have been worse, and I hope he understood why we did what we did," Bryn answered. "No, it might not have been the most cautious course of action, but now we have some idea of the scope of the problem we're dealing with." She made a sound of disgust and rubbed her face. "I still can't get the stench out of my nose. Stendarr's mercy, I hate vampires!" Castle Volkihar had been a complete horror. She had nearly lost the contents of her stomach when the smell hit her and she saw the creatures casually feasting on nearly dead people and drinking goblets of blood. She had been relieved when Harkon banished them and they'd come to at the boat, no matter how cowardly it made her feel; even with what she was, she wasn't sure she would have gotten out of there in one piece, and Rikke certainly wouldn't have survived it. Bryn thought she knew vampires, but she had never seen one change shape like that before. Isran hadn't either, and she thought a good part of his anger had been worry and fright. She grinned at Rikke and said, "You know, I think we might be in over our heads!"

The older woman stared at her in dismay then burst into laughter and clapped Bryn on the back. "Nothing like a challenge, eh my Queen?" Bryn was actually happy, and she could see why. The girl had blasted through every obstacle they had come across in the last couple weeks with alarming ease, making Rikke nearly superfluous. Not that she hadn't gotten any action, but it was more because Bryn had left a few opponents for her each time than the Dragonborn needing any actual help. Rikke didn't take it as charity; it was practice, practice she sorely needed. It was worlds different from the life she was used to, the orderly and regimented life of a soldier, and it was exhausting, but not as much as it was when she had first started out a couple weeks ago. She had to admit that there was something to this constant running around. She'd lost a rather embarrassing amount of weight, but it was quickly getting replaced with lean muscle. It was no mystery why Bryn's body was tight as a drum, and why she had been against Rikke's suggestion to buy some horses.

It had been wonderful though, traipsing across Skyrim, getting to know the country and the people on foot, and she had come to truly love her Queen. There was nothing like spending so much time in close proximity, walking or fighting or just sitting around a campfire, having nothing to do but talk, to forge a tight bond. Bryn had covered all of Skyrim in her travels and knew the land better than most natives, and the common folk were always delighted when they saw her coming. Escorting Serana had been a chore though, the vampire woman preferring to travel at night, and they'd had to avoid Solitude on the way, though they had stopped in on the way back. Bryn had made a courtesy call on Elisif to be told she was not feeling well, and Falk's expression had told them how uncomfortable he was with the obvious lie. Well, they had tried. Bryn had picked up the masks she had stored in Proudspire Manor, along with the ones from Honeyside; they were headed to The Reach for Isran's next task and would gather the ones in Vlindrel Hall, picking up the ones in Breezehome on the way there. They would have all eight dragon priest masks at that point. Rikke wasn't looking forward to Labyrinthian and what they would find there. Bryn's lack of concern on that point was worrisome.

Rikke asked her, "So where next, my lady? Back to Windhelm for a bit?" It was Ulfric's birthday in a few days, and she didn't want to pass up the opportunity to give him hell for finally joining her and Galmar in the fifties.

"Yes, I think so. I miss Ulfric, and we should fill him in on what we've found out and where we're going next. I just want to stop by Riften and pick up that shield for him. And see how Ingun is doing. Oh, and tell Maven to open up that canal." Former Stormcloak soldiers were heading back to their home holds in droves with instructions to join the guard, if they didn't have gainful employment to return to, so there would quickly be enough forces to begin patrolling the roads again against bandits. At least until the war began.

They made their way out of Dayspring Canyon then began heading west, and once they had been on the road for about an hour Rikke ventured, "My lady, I've been meaning to mention something…"

"Anything."

"Since we started out on this venture, I've been considering adding another to our number." Bryn didn't reply other than to make a sound of acknowledgment. "At first it was only for the sake of protocol, to have a more fitting retinue with you. You're the Queen; you can't go about with only me to serve you, and frankly…I'm not a young woman."

"Ah." She didn't give Rikke any platitudes, knowing she was only being honest. She had done quite well for herself, and would only get better with more time on the road, but Bryn saw where she was coming from. The older woman did look a bit worn.

"After seeing the things in that vampire castle…well, we would have been screwed."

Bryn laughed a bit at that. "You've got that right." She snorted another laugh and added, "They let us go too easily, Rikke."

"I'm glad you're following."

"So, you'd like to add to our number. How many?"

"Just one more would be enough for now, I think. Someone young, strong and quick. I'm in decent shape, not bad in a fight, but…like I said, I'm not a young woman."

"Did you have anyone in mind?"

"Not offhand, though…I would prefer if it wasn't a former Stormcloak."

"Hm."

Rikke could tell that Bryn wasn't entirely pleased by the suggestion. She hesitated then said, "It's that… well, we already live in Windhelm, my lady."

"Yes, and I'm traveling about Skyrim with a former Imperial. Would you like me to travel about the country with two former Imperials, then?" Rikke didn't know what to say, and as they kept walking she said, "Honestly, I don't care either way. If I had my choice, I would find someone who was neither. I've traveled and fought with a great many different people in the last year and a half. One of the best followers I've ever had other than Lydia was an Orc maiden named Borgakh the Steel-Heart. I never had the heart to tell Lydia about her, but I saved her from an arranged marriage and we traveled The Reach for a bit before we parted ways. But I very much doubt Ulfric could tolerate having a non-human under his roof."

"Good heavens, no he wouldn't."

"I wouldn't do that to him." If Ulfric were simply racist it would be one thing, and something she wouldn't tolerate, but it was rooted in trauma, and at this point in his life she wasn't going to put him through the stress of completely reorienting his views. She wasn't going to tolerate raising racist children though. That was where she would draw the line. She hoped it wouldn't end up being an issue someday, but she feared it would. The thought of arguing with Ulfric filled her with dread, but at least she had the small comfort of knowing he would never go into the kind of rages that Vilkas once had. Ulfric at least listened and was rational when he was angry.

"Well, I'll keep my eyes open. If a likely youngster comes along and happens to be a former Stormcloak, I suppose I'll have to keep my mind open as well, eh?" Bryn smiled at her in approval and she sighed and nodded. She saw her lady's point of view; yes, they lived in a heavily 'blue' city, but they were trying to heal divisions, and half the country still considered itself Stormcloak territory, and the Queen traveling with only former Imperials in her entourage might trouble some people. Maybe it would be better to mix it up a bit, and frankly, there would be a lot more available former Stormcloaks than Imperials. And many who had fought under Ulfric's banner had once been Legionnaires.

Rikke resigned herself to the notion and thought she might bring it up to Galmar when they got back… _home,_ she reminded herself. Yes, Windhelm was home now. Well, she'd been ready for that when she signed up, and really it wasn't so bad there. She got the occasional good-natured ribbing from Galmar and Ulfric, the occasional dirty look from others, but it would lessen over time. No one dared any of that in Bryn's hearing or sight, that was for certain, and she wasn't about to make her lady aware of it. She hadn't risen to the rank of Legate by letting things like that get to her.

A fat drop of rain landed on Rikke's nose, and she sighed and looked up, then gasped softly when she saw a dragon circling far overhead. "My lady…" she murmured.

Bryn looked up at the sky, squinting. "Ah. Odahviing, I think." No other dragon looked like that.

Relaxing, she asked, "Again? What does he want?" They had glimpsed the dragon at various points over the last two weeks in their travels, always in the distance, as if he were watching them. Following them.

"I don't know. Want to find out?"

"Er…not today." Bryn laughed at that.

"He's probably just bored."

"I ah…really don't like the sound of that. A bored dragon."

"Neither do I, actually, but I'm not sure what to do with him yet. Any of them. Hm… _OD AH VIING!"_

"Shit!" Rikke cried in shock, startled out of her wits by the sudden Shout right next to her, and when the dragon started spiraling down she forgot herself and said in dismay, "Damn it all, Brynhilde!" Bryn laughed wickedly, and she shook her head at the girl.

"Just treat him with the respect you would show the Dragonborn and we'll be just fine." Rikke grimaced as she realized she had just yelled at her Queen, and Bryn patted her on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'm glad you're able to do that. I suppose this was rather mean of me." As Odahviing came in to land on the path in front of them she murmured, "Don't look him in the eyes, and be very respectful of him. You don't have to actually respect him, as long as he thinks you do. They're very vain and prideful."

"Yes my lady," she whispered, then she let out a gasp as the ground shook when the beast landed. By the gods, the thing was magnificent. Immense. She could feel her own chest nearly rumbling as it breathed. Odahviing cocked his head at her and she dropped her eyes, bowing to him, and he grunted and looked away from her. She was going to do everything in her power to not attract his attention again. She was nearly shivering with terror at being this close to the creature, not even ten feet away.

"Dovahkiin," the dragon said, drawing the word out. "You have not called on me in some time, and yet I have watched you running about _Keizaal_ with your _aar_, and you have been seen taking a _malveysun_ to the island of the _diilsevulon, sosnaakke_. Even the _dov_ avoid that _hofkahsediil_, as should you. You have the _thu'um_ of a _dovah_, but your body is small and soft, and they would make a meal of you."

Bryn nodded and put the full rumble of the _thu'um_ into her voice as she said, "Your concern is touching, _zeyhmahi_. We have realized our error, and I will be obtaining another _kendov aar_ to assist me. I have killed many of the _sosnakke_, but I will be cautious in further dealings with these ones. I will wipe them out either way. _Zu'u los Diilkriid_." Odahviing grumbled in acknowledgment. "Tell me, what are the others doing? They've been quiet, and it concerns me."

"A few have flown to Skuldafn with Paarthurnax, to study his 'Way of the Voice' in seclusion, away from the eyes and ears of _joorre_. A few have left _Keizaal_ altogether, for distant parts of _Taazokaan_, to find their own path. There are still some who refuse to submit, and they will no doubt need to be put down, but the remainder wait, and listen for your call. These would call you _Thursedov. Judsedov._"

"Ahh, _pruzah!_ How many?"

"Seven in total, including myself. I have told them of your plans for the _Kriisfahliil grah_, and they are intrigued."

"That may be a little while yet. _Drem_."

"_Unahzaal laas_…what is time to a _dovah?"_

"_Vahzah."_ Odahviing stretched his wings as if readying to take off, then he scratched at his belly with a great clawed foot and grumbled loudly, making Rikke shudder and back further away. Bryn asked him in concern, "What's wrong?"

The dragon huffed and answered, "I flew too low, too close to an _ogiim hofkah_ in the western hills. _Ronaaz,_ I cannot get it out."

"Ah, let me see, _zeymahi."_ She held her hand to Rikke. "I'll need your knife. Mine absorbs health." Rikke hesitated then came forward and handed a small utility knife to her with shaking hands then quickly backed away again. Bryn didn't blame her for being terrified. Odahviing lifted his left wing at her prompting and she knelt down to inspect the large, overlapping whitish-blue scales on his belly. Indeed, an Orcish arrow was lodged between two of them, the shaft snapped off but the head still embedded there, probably only a minor irritation to a creature this size but an irritation all the same, probably grating when the plates rubbed together. "I'm going to cut it out. _Lost ulaak_, don't squash me."

Rikke watched in fascinated fear as Bryn pried the two large plates apart, making Odahviing let out a long growl of discomfort, and when she put the knife to the tender flesh underneath the dragon let out a roar of pain that she felt all the way to her bones. Bryn tossed aside the arrowhead then poured healing magic into the dragon, who began to rumble as his eyes closed.

"Mmm, _faad haalvut, briinah. Pruzah, pruzah..."_

Bryn laughed, "Feels better, does it?"

"_Geh!"_ She came out from under him, and he nudged her with his snout, nearly knocking her off her feet. _"Briinahi,"_ he rumbled.

"_Zoklot zeymahi,"_ she replied warmly, trying not to let on how stunned she was by his behavior. He flexed his wings, and at that signal she backed away, saying, "If any others have need of such attention, tell them to seek me out, but carefully. _Krosis,_ I might kill them otherwise."

"_Geh, Dovahkriid."_

Odahviing launched himself into the air, kicking up small rocks and leaves, the damp weather keeping any dust down. Bryn watched him climb, feeling a warmth toward the beast that she knew was dangerous. It was tempting to assign human emotion and motivation to him, something that could get her killed one day. Still, letting her cut out the arrow had been a huge offering of trust on Odahviing's part. She glanced at Rikke to see the older woman staring up at the dragon with huge eyes and a look of amazement on her face, and she snorted a laugh and said, "That was a first."

"I…as long as I live…" she mumbled. As long as she lived she would never forget what it had been like to be so close to a living dragon, smelling the metallic tang of its hide, the sulfur of its breath, hearing the thunder of its voice. Bryn smiled with shining eyes of gold, and Rikke felt a reverent shiver go through her. A few times over the last couple months she had wondered what she was thinking to give up the Legion, but moments like this reminded her of exactly why she had.

* * *

Jorleif sighed in relief when one of the large bronze doors of the Palace opened in a swirl of snow to admit Bryn and Rikke. She put her fingers to her lips and he nodded, pointing to the war room. Both women strode silently across the hall, looking road-worn and Rikke a bit tired; Bryn had a large, cloth-wrapped object under one arm. When they approached him he bowed to Bryn and murmured, "Welcome home, my Queen."

"It's good to be home, Jorleif," she whispered. "I want to surprise Ulfric."

"Yes my lady, just…don't give him a heart attack, all right?"

She laughed quietly then asked, "What's wrong? You looked more relieved than usual when you saw me."

"You have letters, my lady. Many, many letters."

"Ah!"

"And you've had visitors. Nothing major, but…" Bryn frowned, seeing Jorleif worrying at the corner of his long moustache. "Well, there was an attempt, on the Jarl's life. It—" His breath caught as Bryn's attention focused on him so intently that it felt like her eyes were burning holes in him. She then spun away from him and strode across the hall, Rikke running to keep up with her long legs. Jorleif didn't try to stop her. He knew better. And now wished he had kept his mouth shut and let Ulfric break it to her.

Galmar gasped, startled, when Bryn suddenly appeared in the doorway, and her eyes scanned the gathered men before settling on Ulfric. All but Ulfric bowed to her and she ignored them, going to stand before him and look him over with a feral expression, her nostrils flaring. He gave her a twitch of a smile, wary of her mood and wishing she hadn't found out so soon, and said, "Welcome home, precious."

"You are well, _ahmuli?"_ she asked in a tight voice.

"Yes, perfectly well. It was nothing—"

"Who is responsible?"

"We don't know." She swung her gaze to Galmar, intent and questioning, and before his housecarl could defend himself Ulfric stated in a careful tone, "It happens to every Jarl. It's happened before and it will happen again. It will happen to you. It _has_ happened to you, and you've laughed off the attempts. Galmar did his job as he should have, and I am not incapable of defending myself." She made a growling sound and pulled her gaze away from Galmar, closing her eyes and rotating her neck and shoulders. Her demeanor had the men either shifting uncomfortably or frozen in place as if fearful of drawing her attention. Ulfric hadn't seen this side of her before, but he understood it. He went to her and put his hands on her upper arms, and she huffed and opened her eyes, looking at him with a sullen expression. "I'll tell you more later, _umriidi,_" he murmured, and at the term of endearment she relaxed further, the tension leaving her body. She stroked his scarred cheek, her eyes only for him, and when he smiled more fully at her she let out a long breath and gave him a hint of a smile, though she still looked troubled. He glanced at Rikke, who stood in the doorway with a guarded expression. "How was your first time adventuring, Rikke? You look a bit…rough around the edges."

Rikke thought for a moment then said tiredly, "Let's just say I've seen some shit, Ulfric." He laughed at that while Galmar guffawed. She nodded with her chin at the housecarl and said, "I need to talk to you about that. It isn't proper for the High Queen to travel Skyrim with only me at her side, and I can only cover one side."

"Funny you should mention that," Galmar said in his gravelly voice. He looked at Bryn and she noticed his regard and shifted her gaze to him. Ulfric put his arm around her waist, and she clutched the mysterious object to her, wrapped in black fabric. He motioned towards the men nearby, who were all watching Bryn with wide, wary eyes as if she were about to start breathing fire. She had looked angry enough to. "These are the commanders of the Stormcloak armies that have been disbanded, and… someone else."

Bryn looked over the men, recognizing some of them, then her eyes lit on a man off to the side of them, as if he weren't included in their number. He was tall and heavily built, a little taller than Ulfric, his hair a bright sunny blond, his eyes sparkling blue, and devastatingly handsome, almost a blond Farkas. Her eyes widened and the last of her protective anger evaporated as she said in shock, "Ralof?"

Ralof grinned and said to Galmar, "See, I told you she would remember me!"

The older man growled, "All right pup, I owe you a mug."

"How could I not remember?" Bryn said to Galmar in derision. "The first face I saw in Skyrim, the one who got me away from the block and Alduin? Of course I remember!"

Ralof came forward and went down on one knee before Bryn, saying, "My Queen, I came here to pledge myself to Jarl Ulfric's service, and he was going to send me home like the others. Many of us can't… we're Stormcloaks. We have been for years, and it's…hard to go back."

"And yet you have to. You're Nords, and that is all."

"Yes my lady, I realize that, we all do, and most of us have done what we were told—"

"Most? So what are the rest doing?" She looked at the other men, Stormcloak commanders, and repeated, "What are the rest doing? Am I going to start running into renegades in my travels?" They looked appalled by the notion. "I thought they were directed to join their home hold's guard, if they had no other life to go back to?"

One of the commanders that she recognized as Kai Wet-Pommel said, "They were, my lady, but…many of them, especially in the former Imperial-controlled holds…they've encountered resistance, or they're afraid they...will…" He trailed off as the Dragonborn stared at him with a look of displeasure that practically screamed _You've got to be kidding me!_ "I, er…" He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at Galmar, who was unhelpfully, deliberately looking elsewhere.

"Let me get this straight." Bryn heard a snort from Rikke, and a sigh from Ulfric as he let go of her. She looked down at Ralof and said impatiently, "Good grief, get up. And hold this." He flinched and did so, taking the offered bundle. She put her hands on her hips and said to the commanders, "So, they've encountered resistance, have they? They're afraid…of what? That someone might give them a hard time? Call them names, maybe? Oh, the horror!" The men winced at her sarcastic tone. "How the hell did you keep together the force that managed to hold off the Empire and control half of Skyrim all these years, with a bunch of people who fold at the first hint of difficulty? They had no problem killing their kinsmen, but can't go back to fighting beside them? I told the Jarls a month ago that I wouldn't tolerate former Stormcloaks being persecuted when they returned home, any more than I would tolerate former Legionnaires being harassed if they went home to a former Stormcloak-held territory. We are all Nords, nothing more. These divisions weaken us!" She looked at Ralof and asked, "Did you try to go home to Riverwood? To Whiterun?"

Ralof hesitantly said, "No, my lady. Not because I was afraid, but because I don't want to leave Jarl Ulfric's service."

"I'm sure that's the case with many of you," she said in a gentler tone, "but there isn't room for you all."

Galmar said, "And that's what I told them, my lady, and sent them on their way. This one wouldn't leave. He's been hanging around Windhelm and the Palace for most of the last week, making a pest of himself." He looked over at Rikke. "So."

"So," Rikke replied thoughtfully. It was good to see that she and Galmar were on the same page, though a bit unsettling. As was the gleam in his eye when he looked at her. She had really hoped that would be gone by time she got back. She came up beside Bryn and said to Ralof, "Ulfric's guard has no room for you, son."

"Yes ma'am," Ralof stated with a grimace, "but surely there's somewhere I can be of use. I can't go back home and work the mill with my sister, or spend the rest of my life patrolling roads. I would die of boredom. After Helgen, everything else is…" Beyond dull. He had spent too much time during the last year sitting around camp waiting for battles that never came, though he was relieved to not have to fight kinsmen. He never had wanted to, but you did what you had to do.

"Who was your commander?" A Nord with pale blond hair grunted and nodded. "How is he in a fight?"

Thorygg Sun-Killer stated, "He can more than hold his own. Light on his feet for his size, prefers light armor. Fights with his da's warhammer, though I've told him it isn't right for him. Too slow, greatsword would be better."

Rikke nodded slowly and looked the young man over again, and he fidgeted self-consciously under her gaze, not entirely understanding what was going on. Well, he didn't have to, if he was a good fighter and could follow directions. She said to him, "You wish to keep serving Jarl Ulfric, then? In whatever capacity you can?"

"Yes, ma'am!" he said with a nod, hope practically shining from him.

She glanced at Galmar, and the housecarl said, "All right then, from now on you will serve Ulfric by guarding his most prized possession: his wife." Ralof's knees seemed to give out a bit as he paled and his mouth fell open. Galmar barked, "Well, what say you, boy?"

"The…the Dragonborn? The Queen?" he said weakly. He stared at Bryn, feeling light-headed, and when she tilted her head, waiting, he looked over at Ulfric next to her. The Jarl was frowning slightly, but Ralof couldn't tell if it was because he was against the idea or thought Ralof was an idiot for stammering about it. Still, Ulfric wasn't saying anything negative about it.

"Who did you think we were talking about! Where are your wits, pup?" When Ralof's mouth snapped shut and he swallowed hard, Galmar growled, "What's the matter, that not the job you wanted? There are a thousand others who would take it without hesitation!"

"No sir, I mean yes sir, I-I would be honored, honored beyond…" He clutched the heavy bundle to his chest and looked at Ulfric with shining eyes, saying in a shaking voice, "My Jarl, I don't deserve this privilege, but I will serve and protect our Queen, your wife, with my life. By Talos, I swear it!"

Ulfric hesitated then nodded and said, "See that you do so, Ralof. There is nothing in the world more precious to me than Brynhilde. I expect that if there ever comes a time that you must choose between saving my life or hers…it had better be hers. Understood?"

Ralof stared at him for a moment then nodded vigorously and whispered, "Yes sir!" Ah gods, he felt faint. He had hoped to maybe just say hello to Bryn, see how she had changed, maybe get her help convincing Ulfric to let him stick around in some capacity, but he had never imagined this in his wildest dreams!

Galmar went on, "You will follow Rikke's orders from now on. You're no longer a Stormcloak, boy, you're the Queen's man, got it?"

"Yes sir!"

Rikke asked him, "Ever face a vampire, Ralof?" The young man shook his head. "Well, before we're done you're going to wish you were dying of boredom like you feared you would."

"No ma'am, pardon me but I don't think so!"

"In the last two weeks we've fought vampires, draugr, gargoyles, bandits, and not three days ago I watched our lady do minor surgery on a dragon. We've slogged through crypts and sewers, with hardly a bath or a square meal between cities, and certainly no comfy beds, running our asses off the entire time. You think you're up for all that?" The commanders looked at each other with expressions of disbelief, and she nearly snorted at them. They were still wearing the bear armor, as Galmar did, a couple of them fine-looking men, but compared to what Rikke had seen lately they seemed like a bunch of amateurs. The kid at least seemed eager, with all the energy and enthusiasm she had hoped for. In fact he had so much it was exhausting.

Ralof laughed, his eyes shining, and exclaimed, "Hell yes, ma'am!" He heard a laugh from the Queen and he turned his gaze on her, still not believing his outrageous luck. She grinned at him and he smiled back then realized what she was wearing. "Is that…are you wearing dragon scales?" he gasped.

"My lady," Ulfric reminded him.

The soft menace in the Jarl's tone made Ralof's smile instantly vanish. He went down on one knee, his head bowed. "I'm sorry, my Jarl," he said hastily. "My lady. My Queen. I apologize. It won't happen again." That one soft warning was all he would ever need. Ulfric didn't seem pleased about all this, and it still escaped Ralof why that was, but he was going to give his Jarl and his Queen no reason to doubt him. He had the feeling it would take little for Ulfric to revoke what little approval he had given. It was still hard to believe that Bryn was High Queen, that she had become the magnificent creature he had seen today. Before today his mind's eye had kept conjuring mental images of the scrawny bird-like girl in rags that he had last seen in Helgen, no matter how much he had heard of her exploits in the last year and a half. Now she was built like a true Nord, still lithe but solid muscle, and her Voice…it was like that of the sister of Talos she had claimed to be.

Bryn said to him, "Yes, it's dragonscale armor. When we leave here we'll swing by Riften and I'll craft you a set, along with a greatsword to match Rikke's." Rikke pulled out her sword and handed it to Bryn, who took a few slow swings with it, and there were sharp intakes of breath as green and purple magic swirled along the bone blade. "_Fahliil-Kriid_, I have named it," she murmured. "Elf-Slayer. For you I will craft its brother, _Fahliil-Maar,_ Elf-Terror, with the same enchantments: lightning damage and stamina drain. Once we get you outfitted, anyone with a mind for trouble is going to piss themselves when they see us coming."

Ralof nodded numbly, staring up at the Queen with big, glistening eyes, and Ulfric frowned and pulled his gaze away from him to look at Galmar. His friend noticed and met his eyes, and when Galmar narrowed his own in confusion he looked away again. Bryn was handing the dragonbone blade back to Rikke, who seemed very pleased with herself. He supposed she had reason to be. Ralof was young, twenty-six if he remembered correctly, but he was an experienced soldier. Adventuring was quite different from soldiery, as Rikke had no doubt figured out, but the boy was a quick learner, and eager to please. Very eager to please. Ulfric took Bryn's arm, and she smiled at him, giving him her full attention as he said to her, "Come, let's get you out of your armor. It sounds like you and Rikke could use a rest."

"Only for a few days, I'm afraid. Rikke and I stumbled onto something…eh. It's bad."

"You can tell me about it upstairs."

Bryn motioned for Ralof to get up, and she took the bundle from him and gave him a slap on the shoulder. "You're in for it now, Ralof. Better rest up while you can, because you aren't getting much from here on out."

"I'm counting on it, my lady!" he said happily.

Bryn laughed and let Ulfric take her arm and lead her through the door, hearing Galmar talking to Rikke and the commanders as the door closed. Ulfric said nothing as he led her upstairs, his grip a little tighter than it needed to be. So he wasn't pleased about this. She thought she had noticed that he was troubled by the business with Ralof but couldn't figure out why, then Ralof had knelt a little bit ago and looked up at her with a worshipful expression on his lovely face and it had quickly become apparent what it was: her husband was jealous. Ralof was young and handsome; Ulfric was neither, and Ralof was going to be living in close proximity to Bryn from now on. Well, Bryn wasn't completely happy about that either; she had never been on the road for any length of time with any male except Farkas and Vilkas, always preferring female traveling companions and housecarls. She really wasn't sure how this was going to work, but she had faith in Ralof, and in Rikke and Galmar's judgment.

Once they were upstairs in their quarters, instead of letting go of Bryn, Ulfric tightened his grip and pulled her against him, kissing her hard, and only the armor between them kept his fingers from bruising her arm. She tossed the bundle on the bed and put her other arm around his neck, feeling his body nearly thrumming with tension. It was something she wasn't at all used to. When Ulfric broke away and looked her in the eyes with a searching expression, the vulnerability there broke her heart. "I missed you, darling," she whispered. His brow furrowed, and when she gently pulled on her arm his eyes widened and he quickly let go. He bit his lip, a tormented look on his face, and she sighed and reached out to touch his cheek but he moved back out of range.

"I shouldn't have touched you like that," he said in a rough voice. It wasn't the first time he had done it, either. It made him feel like a monster. Everything she and Rikke must have been through lately and she had come home to have him manhandle her because of his fragile ego. When she didn't reply or give him any platitudes, he knew that she understood why he had done it. He had no call to be insecure or fearful with her. It made him feel like a foolish child, that he was reacting like this to the thought of young, energetic, handsome Ralof fawning over his wife. It made it seem like he didn't trust her, or Ralof. The boy had looked at Bryn like that because she was the Queen, and Dragonborn, and offered him a new lease on life, that was all. Bryn could have found a man like Ralof to marry if that was what she wanted, and instead she had chosen Ulfric. It was insulting to her that he was behaving like this, and yet he didn't know how to stop.

"Help me out of my armor, beloved?" Ulfric lowered his eyes from hers and nodded, and she turned her back to him and held her arms out so he could unfasten the buckles. "You wouldn't believe what Odahviing did the other day. He's been following us for the last two weeks at a distance, off and on. I finally called him down to ask him what was going on, and he basically…said he was worried about me." He grunted in surprise but said nothing else. "Rikke and I had to escort a vampire princess to an island northwest of Solitude, and he said even the _dov_ don't go there because of all the vampires. There was some sort of…I don't know what he was, a vampire king or something. I've never seen anything like it. So we're in a bit of a mess, but I think with another sword at my back I'll get it taken care of. We need to get the Dawnguard built up a bit more first; vampires were attacking when we got back." She heard his breathing grow a bit uneven then he sighed quietly and pulled the cuirass over her head. "But back to Odahviing… Before he took off he was scratching at his belly and complaining that he had flown over an Orc stronghold and taken an arrow, and he actually let me cut it out and heal him. Then he rubbed his head against me and called me _briinahi,_ can you imagine?"

"Amazing."

"I thought so. Poor Rikke though, I thought she was going to keel over. She handled everything else pretty well, but that just about sent her over the top." Bryn bent over to slide off her boots and went on, "The worst part of the whole trip was when we first got to Riften a month ago. I wish I had known what was really going on there, or I would have gone there right away after the Moot. Maven's slimy housecarl had abducted her daughter and had her chained up down in the Ratway."

"Merciful Mara," Ulfric muttered in horror, feeling a shudder go through him. The thought of it made him nauseous. It was a given what the beast had been doing to the girl down there. He knew all too well.

"He tried to pass it off as a Thalmor plot, with Anuriel's help forging the note. It's a good thing for her that she was gone when I got back here. I hope she ran all the way back to Valenwood, because she's dead if Maven or I ever find her."

"And this Maul is dead?"

"I slit his throat in front of Ingun, at her insistence."

"Good."

"Right after Maven became Jarl, Maul asked to marry Ingun, and Maven insulted him for it. And then I come along and kill everyone in the Thieves Guild, including what I found out was his brother. So he decided since he couldn't really get back at me, he'd go after Maven instead. He took Ingun right before the Moot. The poor girl, I…I wish I had gotten there sooner." She heard him take in a shuddering breath and let it out again as he turned away to sit in a chair. She gave him his privacy and still didn't look at him, sliding off her pants and doublet. She could tell by his breathing though that he was stressed, and it broke her heart. "I was finally able to speak with Legate Fasendil. He did know my father, but only in passing. So there was little new information there." Ulfric made a sound of acknowledgment. She found a clean washcloth and clean clothing, laying out the shift and dress on the bed then going to the table near Ulfric to pour water into a bowl to wash a bit. She and Rikke had stopped yesterday at the hunter's camp in the volcanic tundra to sit in the hot springs for a while, so she didn't feel too grimy. Better that she didn't tell Ulfric; he wouldn't take kindly to the thought of his wife sitting around in her underclothes with a bunch of strangers. Rikke hadn't been all that agreeable either, until she had sunk into that hot water with a big smile on her face. Ulfric gently took Bryn's arm and pulled her into his lap, and when she smiled at him he took the washcloth from her and began tenderly washing her face for her. He wore a troubled expression, as he often did. "I'm glad you're all right," she quietly said.

"Some disgruntled Reach Breton," he muttered. "I Shouted her down and the guards disposed of her. It isn't the first time, and won't be the last." He could have defended himself quite well with his axe, but she had used magic to attack him, out of his range, and the _thu'um_ was the best weapon he'd had at the time. She nodded and he brushed her hair out of the way to wash her neck. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and he kissed her shoulder and murmured against it, "I'm…sorry I reacted as I did." She shook her head, and he went on, "I…all I could see was that expression on his face when he was looking up at you, with that…damned handsome face of his."

"You may not believe this, but I'm not attracted to Ralof. At all."

"How could you not be?"

"He reminds me of Farkas. He's a blond Farkas. Definitely smarter, but still…" She shrugged and shook her head. "He just doesn't have…whatever it is that drew me to you, and…Vilkas. And good grief, he's so young. Like a big, eager puppy. No thank you." She felt Ulfric relax the smallest bit as he continued washing her. She smirked at him and added, "Maybe I just like my men dark and tormented." He scoffed and rolled his eyes, making her laugh. "I missed you," she murmured. "Every day."

"And I missed you," he said quietly. He snorted and added, "I even missed Rikke." He and Galmar had missed the sound of women's voices and laughter in the house, and around the table at meals.

"Hm. Did Galmar?" Ulfric made a noncommittal sound and shrugged one shoulder, though she could tell it was a bit forced, as if he was trying not to smile. "All right, you boys can have your secrets, but I'm the Agent of Mara. I see all; I know all." At that he laughed, and she shifted in his lap to put her arms around his neck, sinking one hand into his dark blond hair. "I love you, _kodaavi."_

"And I love you, precious." Bryn placed a soft kiss on his lips, and he had to resist the urge to turn it into something more, preferring to save it for bedtime. When he didn't go any further Bryn sighed in frustration, and he had to stifle another surge of jealousy thinking that Ralof wouldn't have hesitated. Ralof would have been able to do it on command, take a brief rest and do it ten minutes later, then again that night. He cursed his selfishness again in taking a young bride who would have been better off with someone like Ralof, who would follow her around like an adoring hound and put out as often as she wanted. He knew damn well that she didn't get it as often as she wanted it. Even at nearly forty Vilkas had probably never had trouble. The man practically screamed virility.

Sensing Ulfric was getting into a mood, or maybe had never gotten out of the one he had been in, Bryn slid off his lap, and after giving him another kiss she went to the bed and pulled on a white cotton shift then a light blue wool dress, and as she was searching for a belt to go with it she glanced over and saw her husband still stewing, watching her with a gruff expression. She sighed and asked, "Do you want me to get rid of Ralof? I will."

He made a sound of anger, angry at himself, and stood from the chair. "Absolutely not. Ignore me. My behavior is pathetic." She began to fasten a belt of silver disks around her waist, shaking her head, and he said in a gruff tone, "Rikke and Galmar were right to choose him. The boy will do a good job. I know he doesn't see you as I do."

"You're the only man who sees me that way, and that's why I'm with you." She pulled off the thick socks that went under her armored boots and pulled on hose, and when she heard a huffing sound from him she glanced up to see him watching her pull it up her legs with slightly dilated eyes. It was good to know he did want her. It was something they really never discussed, that aspect of his age. He simply didn't have it in him to perform on command. Maybe he never had. She thought that when she was in Markarth she might stop by the Temple of Dibella and get some advice. Maybe even stop by the Hag's Cure and see if Bothela would part with that recipe for the Stallion's Potion. Now that could be interesting, if she could get Ulfric to drink it. That wouldn't be a comfortable conversation at all, but the end results might be worth it.

Bryn pulled on some soft dress boots and saw him leaning against the side of their bed, looking at the mysterious bundle, and she held her hand out to him and asked, "Ready to go downstairs?" Ulfric laughed shortly, not playing along, and she laughed in turn and picked it up. "I found this…oh, how long ago? Maybe nine months ago, on one of my adventures in The Rift, I can't remember where. Maybe Forelhost. I held onto it and tempered it, not knowing what to do with it, then we married and I realized who it was perfect for." She held it out to him, and as he took it she said, "Happy birthday, beloved."

Ulfric's eyebrows rose, and he resisted the urge to gripe ungratefully about how much he hated that he was turning fifty tomorrow. Half a century old. It was appalling that he had lived this long. The object weighed about fifteen pounds and was two and a half feet wide by three feet long, and when he saw the glint of ebony emerge from the wrap he realized what it was. "Ah, Talos, look at that!" he breathed. Oengul was done with the set of ebony armor he had commissioned, but Ulfric hadn't bought a shield to go with it. As he pulled off the rest of the wrapping he saw two engraved bears of Eastmarch facing each other on the upper part of the shield, making him suck in a sharp breath. He ran his hand over the bears and saw the shimmer of pale blue magic. "By Talos, Brynhilde, this is magnificent!"

"I enchanted it with magic resistance and fortified blocking. I finally figured out a way to force two enchantments at a time into objects. Like Rikke's sword."

"This…this is priceless," Ulfric whispered. "There's nothing else like it in the world. The Shield of Eastmarch, I'll call it. To be passed down through our bloodline forevermore." He pulled Bryn against him and kissed her tenderly, then he took her hand and gave it a tug. "Come, I want to show Galmar and the others."

Bryn went along happily, glad that the gift had pulled Ulfric out of his sour mood. She loved all his depths and complexities, and to be fair he wasn't often moody. Today had simply been a bad combination of dreading a landmark birthday and seeing Ralof's youth and handsomeness on display, making him feel his age doubly. She would just have to make sure that she never gave Ulfric any cause to be jealous of Ralof. Ralof didn't expect special treatment, so if she kept things completely professional between them it shouldn't hurt his feelings any. If Ralof wanted to serve, then that was exactly what he was going to do. She couldn't allow herself to care for him as she had Farkas, as a close friend and brother, just as she had never been able to bring herself to care for Rikke as she had Lydia. Now that she was High Queen she no longer had that luxury, and now that she knew Ulfric was envious of Ralof the last thing she wanted to do was rub her husband's nose in it. Jealousy in a man was a sad and terrible thing as it was, without adding his past into the mix.


	40. Chapter 40

Vilkas nodded to Thorald and Avulstein Gray-Mane as the younger men headed up to the marketplace, on their way home from visiting their sister in Ivarstead. Whiterun was abuzz with the news that the younger members of the Gray-Mane and Battle-Born clans were trying to heal the rift between the families that the elders were still stubbornly clinging to. Olfina and Jon refused to return to Whiterun until their parents agreed to start behaving civilly to each other. Vilkas supposed they would have to, and quick, seeing as how Olfina was newly pregnant. He was sure it galled Fralia and Eorlund that their first grandchild would carry the name Battle-Born. He knew it galled Vignar. The old man never shut up about it.

He let himself into Breezehome, knowing he was expected for dinner, and stopped in surprise to see a big blond man squatted down by the fire warming his hands, and when the man launched to his feet and grabbed for the two-handed sword on his back he was so stunned he spun back out the door and pulled out his own sword, his heart hammering.

"Hey, it's okay," he heard Farkas quickly say. "It's my brother."

Taking deep breaths to slow his heart, Vilkas peeked around the door jamb to see the man sheathing his weapon. He kept his own out until he saw Farkas nod to him, and he let out a shaky breath and slid his sword onto his back. He looked the young man over, wondering who the hell he was. He was nearly as tall as the twins themselves, short by only a couple inches, and quite handsome, sporting a single braid in his bright blond hair. Then Vilkas realized with a stab of shock that the man was wearing dragonscale armor. The style was slightly different from Bryn's, but he would recognize the stuff anywhere. Farkas came over and pulled him inside and shut the door against the chill, and he muttered to him, "What the hell is going on?"

"My apologies, Harbinger," the man stated. "I am Ralof. The Queen's Guard."

Vilkas blinked as he felt a zing of anxiety go through him, and he realized with dread that he could hear the murmur of women's voices upstairs: Lydia and Bryn, with Bryn's voice rumbling softly. He licked his lips and looked past the fire, realizing another woman was sitting in one of the chairs, and recognized her as Rikke, though she was wearing steel plate armor instead of the fine clothing she had worn at the Moot. She nodded to him and he couldn't respond to either of them, feeling like he had walked into an ambush. Bryn was here. She wasn't supposed to be here. He should have been given some kind of warning!

Rikke stood, saying, "We won't be staying long, Harbinger. Our lady wanted to stop by and see how Lydia was doing, while we fetch some items. We're stopping up at Dragonsreach for supper then we'll be on our way to Riverwood tonight."

"Sure," he whispered. He looked back at Ralof, confused, then he said in realization, "Ralof…you were at Helgen."

"Aye," Ralof said with a nod, pleased that the Harbinger remembered, and that Bryn had mentioned him back then. "I had the honor of getting our lady away from the block and into a tower, after Alduin's attack. Best decision I ever made, that." Rikke guffawed at that. He inclined his head to Vilkas and said, "It's my honor to make your acquaintance, Harbinger."

"Eh…likewise."

Farkas said to Vilkas, "Bryn and Rikke ran into some trouble looking into the vampire problems. They needed to beef up the security." Vilkas nodded. Farkas could see his twin was upset, caught off guard and dreading Bryn coming down. Well, it was bad timing, that was all. It wasn't as if anyone had gotten any warning. He nodded to Ralof and said, "Hey, show him your sword, Ralof."

The young man pulled the greatsword off his back, saying to Vilkas, "You wield two-handed as well, I see."

Vilkas nodded, and Farkas said, "Vilkas is the best two-handed swordsman in Skyrim, hands down." Maybe the best swordsman period since Skjor died, but he wasn't going to feed his twin's ego.

"I don't doubt it."

Ralof held the sword out on the palms of his hands, and Vilkas hesitated then took it by the hilt, knowing Bryn had crafted it. It was made of dragon bone and ebony, wickedly beautiful, and the blade swirled with green and purple magics. He gave it a few swings, unable to help whistling at how perfectly balanced it was. He held it up and ran the flat of his hand along the blade, asking in disbelief, "Are there really two enchantments on it?" Gods, what he wouldn't give for a sword like this! The Companions for the most part frowned upon using enchanted armor and weapons, preferring to rely on their skill, but no one said the sword had to be enchanted. Well, he would never have a sword like this, and that was that. There was no way in hell he would let Bryn make a sword for him. The bracelet was reminder enough to live with.

Rikke said, "Our lady Queen figured out the trick to double enchanting. I was there when she did." She patted the sword at her side. "Elf-Slayer,_Fahliil-Kriid._ Ralof carries its brother, _Fahliil-Maar_, Elf-Terror. There are no two finer swords in all of Tamriel."

Vilkas nodded, not doubting it, feeling his heart ache as he handed the sword back to Ralof. He didn't doubt that the Dominion would one day grow to dread the sight of those swords coming at them. "It is a truly fine weapon," he said with complete honesty. Ralof smiled at him and sheathed the sword, and Vilkas couldn't help admiring the young warrior and feeling a little envious. It had to be a dream come true for Ralof to be appointed as the Queen's Guard and personally outfitted by the Queen herself. He probably woke up every morning not believing his incredible luck. Vilkas wondered if Bryn ever woke up in camp and looked at Ralof's face and compared it to Ulfric's. Supposedly her husband had just turned fifty last week, and the young man here couldn't be a day older than Bryn. Well, compared to Ralof, even Vilkas couldn't help feeling his age. He had found his first silver hair about a month ago. Right about when Bryn had married Ulfric. He had to wonder how Ulfric felt about someone young and handsome accompanying his wife all over Skyrim. Vilkas wouldn't have appreciated it.

"Excuse me," Rikke said, and when Vilkas nodded she went upstairs.

He blew out a long breath and went to sit in one of the chairs, hearing feminine murmurs upstairs, then complete silence, and as he stared at the fire he heard the chest lid shut and the creak of floorboards as the three women came back down. Rikke came down first, then Lydia, and when he saw dragonscale boots in his peripheral vision he swallowed and rose to his feet, realizing it was expected of him. She was the High Queen after all. He kept his eyes on the fire and bowed slightly to her, hearing her sigh tiredly in response.

"Oh Vilkas… Is that really necessary?" she asked sadly. He nodded, still not looking at her, his expression tense. It bothered her deeply that he couldn't even tolerate looking at her yet. She made a sound of hurt and annoyance then looked at Ralof, who was staring at Vilkas with a calculating expression. It had become apparent over the last week that he was certainly no intellectual slouch. Ralof felt her attention and met her eyes, and she held up the two masks in her hands and said, "Krosis and Vokun."

He asked, "What do we have left, my lady?"

"Otar and Hevnoraak, in Markarth, then we'll have all eight. We can stop in Labyrinthian on our way back to Fort Dawnguard."

Lydia asked her with dread, "So you're really going to do it? Go back to that sculpture and see what it does with the masks?"

"There's a reason why the wooden mask took me back there. Something will happen when I place all eight on their busts."

"Nothing good, I'm sure!" Bryn laughed, and she said, "I swear sometimes you have a death wish!"

"No, not anymore." She saw Vilkas' jaw clench, and she threw the masks to Rikke who deftly caught them and stowed them in her pack. It took all Bryn's willpower not to grumble at Vilkas' behavior. He was the one who had made things this way, not her. He had no right to still act like this. Everything would have been different if he had just answered her letter. Looking at him now made it impossible not to have everything they shared come rushing back at her. He was too damn handsome for his own good, with the firelight on his face like that, lighting up those pale gray eyes. The firelight made her remember their first time together, and it made her heart ache. She tore her gaze away from him to see Ralof now watching her with the same expression he had been watching Vilkas with, and when she raised an eyebrow at him the blonde blinked and looked away, his cheeks turning pink. Bryn stifled a surge of annoyance and went to Lydia and Farkas, giving them hugs and kisses then taking her leave. She couldn't get out of Breezehome soon enough, feeling Vilkas' gaze nearly burning holes in her back.

* * *

Crouched behind an outcropping of rocks, Ralof whispered, "Now this is a place I never imagined coming back to." He could see the damaged towers and burnt rooftops of Helgen above the town walls. On either side of the gate were pikes, gruesomely decorated with burnt bodies and skulls. The memories this place held sent shivers up his spine. When they had reached Riverwood so he could visit with his family and the Queen had said they were heading for Helgen next, he had nearly asked her if she was out of her mind. He was fairly certain the question would get him punched in the jaw by Rikke. That woman took not one ounce of crap from anyone, including Ulfric and Galmar.

"I've been back here several times," Bryn stated, "and each time it's infested with bandits again."

Rikke said, "This is unacceptable, my Queen. The town needs to be rebuilt. It's too close to the Pale Pass."

"Yes, I've often thought the same thing. It's in too strategic a position to be wasted. I'll have to talk to some people about this." She looked at the two of them and asked, "Ready?" They nodded, and Bryn began creeping up on the gates, the two following close behind. She picked the lock on the gate and between the three of them they quickly swept through the remains of the town and dispatched half a dozen bandits. Too easy, though Ralof seemed happy to finally get to use his new sword on something.

Ralof stood staring down at the headsman's block, and as Rikke and Bryn came up on either side of him he sighed sadly and looked up at the tower. "I think I'm going to have nightmares tonight, my lady," he told Bryn.

"I'll have them with you," she replied quietly, putting her hand on his back. "To think I had my head right on the block and the axe was going up…" She patted him and said, "And then you were pulling me to my feet and we were running after Ulfric into that tower right over there."

"Aye."

Rikke turned with them to look at the broken tower, a sorrowful look on her face, and Bryn said to the older woman, "I was still dazed from my cousin bashing me in the head. I didn't get the chance to heal myself until Hadvar freed my hands. But I remember Ulfric's voice, that first time I heard it: 'Legends don't burn down villages.'" Ralof laughed sadly and nodded in remembrance. "Funny, I don't think he even saw me then. To think I was standing there looking at the man who would one day be my husband. What a…strange path we've gone down. And he finds it every bit as strange as I do." They'd spent many a night of pillow talk on the subject, during that first month together. She blew out a long breath and said, "Well, our job here is done. We're off to rebuild the Dawnguard." They made sounds of assent, and she caught Ralof's arm. He looked at her curiously and she smiled at him and said, "As long as you're with me, I feel like I have a little bit of Ulfric here."

"I'm glad, my lady," he said with pride. She let go of him, and as they made their way through the western wall he felt his heart swell. Helgen was the first real action he had seen since joining her service, but it only intensified the reverence he held her in. She was a more than fitting wife for the great Ulfric Stormcloak. What he had witnessed in Whiterun troubled him though, and he still wasn't sure what to say about it to Ulfric, if anything. Ulfric would want to know that his wife and her former lover still had feelings for each other. But Ralof also didn't want to be the source of strife in their marriage, because he knew the Queen would never be unfaithful to Ulfric. She was a good person, an ethical person, and her willingness to stop in Riverwood for the night so he could visit with his family meant everything to him. They had been so proud of him they were just about bursting.

As they headed to the area where Gunmar would supposedly be found, Bryn turned over the matter of Helgen in her head, determined to talk to Ulfric about it, and Tullius. It had been an Imperial-held outpost, close to the border of Cyrodiil, but the 4th Legion here hadn't seen fit to rebuild it or keep it cleaned out, so she considered it fair game. She thought she might keep the block there though. And maybe the broken tower she had escaped out of, and Ulfric had made his getaway from. Yes, those definitely needed to stay.

* * *

Rikke turned away from the Riften carriage driver and said sourly, "Dragon Bridge? Are you shitting me?" She was glad they had decided to leave the vampire girl Serana at Fort Dawnguard, because she'd be damned if they traipsed all the way back across the country moving only at night. Serana could move during the day, but she complained the entire time and moved more slowly, which was just as bad. And the notion of walking around in the open with an Elder Scroll just poking out of her pack was appalling, and the creature didn't even seem to realize it. No, better she stayed at the Fort.

Ralof clapped his hands then rubbed them together and said, "I guess we'd better get going then, eh?" Rikke slowly turned to look at him, her expression telling him she was one step away from smacking him, making him grin and wink at her. Ralof had had the time of his life on the road, battling the vampire assassins that had been sent after them, endless bandits, even a couple rogue dragons. He couldn't wait to get back to Windhelm and tell Ulfric and Galmar about that! The Queen had taken their souls, just like the legends said, and one dragon she had finished by jumping on its head and plunging her sword into the top of its skull, then she had stood on it and shouted "_ZU'U LOS DOVAHKRIID!_" The sound had echoed around them in claps of thunder that had brought him to his knees, almost in tears, completely awed, and he had distantly heard the answering calls of other dragons. He would follow her to Oblivion and back, and everywhere in between. He couldn't wait to see what they were going to do next, but Rikke didn't seem particularly thrilled. But then Rikke was getting up there in years. She was a tough old broad, but he could tell all this running around was draining on her.

Bryn looked at Rikke in concern, saying, "Maybe we could stay in Riften tonight. We need to dump off these dragon parts anyway, and I wanted to craft some potions. We're getting a bit low." They all drank a potion for curing disease after fighting vampires, even if they didn't think they had been infected, just as a precaution. Rikke seemed relieved by the suggestion to stay in town, and as they entered the city Bryn couldn't help worrying a bit about her. The pace they kept up was a bit punishing, and from the start Rikke hadn't found adventuring her cup of tea, but she had been a good sport and a great help. She was a solid warrior, an excellent strategist, and was stringent about enforcing Bryn's position as High Queen everywhere they traveled. It seemed the traveling was getting to her though. No matter how fit Rikke had become, she wasn't young. Sleeping in bedrolls every night and running and fighting every day were taking their toll. Bryn had come to enjoy life on the road, now that the problems with Vilkas were no longer swirling around constantly in her mind, though since seeing him in Whiterun she had kept thinking about him, and had some dreams about him, a few of them rather erotic, and she had woken up certain that she had been talking or moaning in her sleep, mortified, but Rikke and Ralof had still slept soundly, seeming unaware, to her vast relief. That was the last thing she needed Ulfric to hear about. She wanted to believe that Ralof's first loyalty was to her, but it was too early to tell yet.

This time when they entered Riften, the city no longer smelled like rank, stagnant water, and Bryn saw that some long-needed repairs had been done. Well then, she would spare Maven another visit, and maybe even put in a good word for her with Tullius. They took a hard right to avoid going through the city and went directly to Honeyside. Bryn was pleased to see that Iona had added a few chickens to the garden and added a little fence to keep them in. She sighed happily and went to the door and knocked before letting herself in, and after greeting Iona she saw her housecarl's eyes light up at the sight of Ralof, who flashed his most charming grin at her, making her let out a titter the likes of which Bryn had never heard from her before. She hadn't thought Iona capable of tittering. The last time they had come to Riften Iona had obviously found him attractive, but Ralof had been too starry-eyed still about becoming the Queen's Guard and getting dragon armor that he hadn't even seemed to notice. Well, he was noticing now, and it made Bryn glad that Iona's room was downstairs and had a solid door. She was sure Ralof was missing female company with the pace they had kept, and Iona could handle herself. What Ralof did during his off time was his own business, as long as he was ready to go in the morning.

* * *

A grumble and the shake of the bed next to her woke Rikke from a sound sleep, and when she saw her Queen going out the back door she rolled out of bed, grabbing her sword and going after her. When she was nearly to the door she heard the banging of a headboard against a wall downstairs and moans of pleasure, and she snorted a laugh and followed Bryn outside.

"Dibella's sake," Bryn whispered in irritation. "It's the second time already!"

"Ah, kids," Rikke said, amused. "I didn't hear a thing. Sleep like a log after thirty-five years in the Legion. You learn to block it out early on."

"I can't block it out. It's…ugh." It had her aroused as hell, and there was nothing she could do about it, or rather nothing she would be immoral enough to do about it. It was going to make it impossible to look Ralof in the eye tomorrow. Bryn hadn't been to sleep at all yet, unable to once Ralof and Iona had gone downstairs under the pretext of looking at Bryn's armory. Like anyone was going to believe that! They'd started in within fifteen minutes, Rikke already passed out by then. From all the banging and moaning and muffled screams it sounded like Ralof was a sabre cat in bed. Just like Vilkas had been.

"Well, you're young too."

"Yes, unfortunately I am." The bitter statement shocked Rikke, and Bryn muttered, "Forget I said that. I'm…just being morose." She heard Rikke make a sound like she didn't quite believe that. Bryn said nothing, not about to air her frustrations to her chamberlain. She would have in a heartbeat to Lydia, but then Vilkas was part of the problem and Lydia was around her brother-in-law constantly. _Oh Vilkas_, Bryn thought with grief. She had been missing him terribly lately; ever since seeing him at Breezehome he had been heavily on her mind, seeing the heartrending expression on his face over and over again as he stared at the fire, refusing to look at her, as if it was too painful to do so. He was still hurting, so why, _why_ hadn't he answered her letter? Why had he told Ulfric to marry her? If he still loved her, why had he let her go so easily? It made her wish she had followed Dinya's advice and gone to Whiterun and talked to Vilkas directly, after Sovngarde. Maybe seeing her face-to-face really would have made a difference, if Vilkas still loved her so much that he was still upset months later. Well, she still loved him too.

Rikke finally said, "You're young, and Ulfric is not." Bryn made a sound of embarrassment and leaned on the railing overlooking Lake Honrich. Rikke hadn't missed Bryn's anxiety before her visit to the Temple of Dibella while they were in Markarth, under the pretext of visiting the young Sybil to see how she was doing. Well, if that had been Bryn's entire purpose she wouldn't have asked Rikke to wait outside. She'd also asked Rikke to wait outside the Hag's Cure, which had been highly unusual. It wasn't hard to put together that Ulfric wasn't quite meeting Bryn's needs, which Rikke found hard to believe from the noise coming down from the marital chambers every night during their recent stay, and a few mornings as well. Rikke leaned next to her and asked, "Are you sure that's all it's about?" Bryn grumbled, and she went on, "I assure you, my _only_ loyalty is to you, my lady, not my first. And I have eyes in my head, and ears. And unfortunately, so does Ralof."

"What do you mean?" she asked in a whisper of anxiety.

"You talk in your sleep sometimes. You always have, but for the first few nights after we left Whiterun it was worse. Ralof asked me the other day if I knew what _grohiiki_ meant." She heard Bryn's breathing stop short. "He couldn't understand most of what you said, but that word was the one he said he kept hearing. I told him I had no idea, that it sounded like dragon language, and that if he really wanted to know he should ask you. He seemed too embarrassed to do so, for some reason." Probably because he had heard Bryn moaning it, as Rikke had.

Bryn bit her lip, feeling her heart hammering, then she whispered, "Do you think he'll ask Ulfric?"

"He'd better not, or he's risking losing his position. His first loyalty is supposed to be to you. He isn't here to be a spy for Ulfric." When she heard Bryn swallow she asked, "Would you like me to have a talk with him in the morning, my lady?" She saw Bryn nod. "What would you like me to tell him?"

"The truth. That _grohiiki_ means my wolf," she said painfully. "Ulfric is _kodaavi_ to me, my bear, but… Vilkas…Vilkas was my wolf, and I can't help what I dream about. Ulfric is my husband and I love him. He means everything to me. I would never willingly hurt him. I would never be unfaithful to him."

Rikke put her hand on Bryn's shoulder and gently said, "He knows that, my lady. And he knows how you love him. Anyone can see it when you look at him."

"Yes, but…" She made a sound of frustration. "You can't imagine what it was like with Vilkas. It was…it was so…intense. He was so fiery, so fierce. Everything he did, no matter how minor, he did it full out. He had so much energy that when he wasn't actively doing something he seemed ready to burst. He couldn't just stand still; he was always pacing. Always thinking." She swallowed down the lump in her throat. "Mjoll told me he had ruined me for anyone else. That isn't true at all, but…I can't help thinking about him sometimes when Ulfric isn't around." Ulfric was a wonderful lover and had put a great deal of effort into becoming one; he simply didn't have the experience Vilkas did, or the sensual nature Vilkas did. Ulfric kept her adequately satisfied, but he had never taken her to the dizzy heights of pleasure Vilkas had. He just didn't have it in him, and she didn't think it had anything at all to do with his past; it was just him.

"And yet when Ulfric is around…" Bryn nodded, looking at her wedding band then twisting it around her finger. Rikke gave the girl's shoulder a squeeze then let go. "I think considering his age, Ulfric is doing pretty well for himself. And considering…other things."

Bryn said in a guilty tone, "I wasn't very circumspect about that, was I."

"Only because I already knew some of what had happened. It won't change how I behave toward him, and I will never let on to a soul, I swear it." She sighed, "It breaks my heart, truly. That sort of thing would have been hard on any man, but…he was so, well, not shy exactly. Serious, I suppose. All those years with the Greybeards, I'm sure, because his father certainly wasn't like that. Fjonnar was a big, gregarious man, popular with the ladies, but Ulfric was quiet, thoughtful. He hardly ever fooled around in camp like the rest of us youngsters did. It didn't seem to bother or embarrass him at all, it just…didn't seem to have much effect on him. Those…_monsters_ probably couldn't have picked a worse target to inflict that kind of abuse on. It's a testament to his love for you, and his trust in you, that he's made the effort he has."

Bryn whispered, "You're right. Of course you're right. Oh Ulfric." He did make love to her as much as she had any right to expect, just as the priestesses of Dibella had told her, and it was always wonderful. It was just like her to never be completely satisfied with what she had. Well, she was just going to let the matter drop and focus on her marriage and try to put Vilkas out of mind. Ulfric was very good in bed, and it wasn't as if his libido ever completely failed him. Bothela had admitted to her that the Stallion Potion was simply one that enhanced stamina for a few minutes, nothing special. Ulfric didn't need that. She supposed he really didn't need anything, other than an understanding wife.

She and Rikke were sitting at the table out on the balcony half an hour later, sharing a bottle of mead, when they finally heard the creak of feet on the floorboards. Ralof came out with his sword in his hand, looking worried, wearing only a pair of pants, and Rikke quietly clapped her hands and smirked at him. "Quite the performance, lad," Rikke stated.

Letting the sword drop, Ralof grimaced and muttered, "Ah gods, were we that loud?"

"You could say that. I really liked that 'Ah, sweet Divines, yes, yes!' at the end."

Ralof looked at the Queen, who couldn't meet his eyes, but he could see even in the moonlight she was blushing deeply. He felt like smacking himself. Galmar had warned him that their lady had somewhat delicate sensibilities in that area because of her upbringing and to be circumspect about his modesty and his bedroom matters on the road, but he had thought no one would hear them downstairs with the door closed, and frankly once he got going all sense flew out the window. He bowed deeply, embarrassed, and said, "I'm so sorry, my lady. I was indiscreet. I should have thought."

Unable to look at him, Bryn said with difficulty, "Well maybe I shouldn't be such a prude. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Maybe not wrong, but stupid." She shook her head then glanced up at him, and when she quickly looked him over then just as quickly looked away he didn't know what to do. He glanced at Rikke, who made a small shooing motion under the table, and he cleared his throat and said, "Well then, I will…ah, go to sleep, my lady. If you don't need anything." Bryn shook her head, and he rubbed the back of his neck then wandered back inside, feeling like an ass.

He laid out his bedroll in the nice, warm kitchen area and crawled inside, and next thing he knew it was morning and the clinking of the pot over the fire nearby was waking him. He stretched and looked over, seeing Rikke stirring something and smelling porridge, and when she smiled at him he knew he wasn't in trouble. He sat up, running his fingers through his hair, and when it caught on his braid he winced and starting undoing it. He leaned sideways to look into the main bedroom, but the Queen wasn't in there, and it was silent downstairs.

"Our lady and Iona went to the marketplace for a bit," Rikke stated. "She had some items she wanted to sell and some things to take to the children at the Orphanage." Ralof looked relieved. "Don't beat yourself up about last night. Our lady can be…hm, funny I guess, about that sort of thing. Sometimes she'll crack a joke or say something that leads you to believe she's just like any other Nord, but most of the time she's a bit reserved in regards to sex."

"But…" He trailed off, and when Rikke motioned for him to go on he said quietly, "I heard her with the Jarl. Every night. Everyone in our hall can." From the amount and kind of noise she made it was obvious she didn't have any inhibitions in bed. Ulfric had never been known for the frequency or length of his love affairs either, so Ralof had been pretty impressed with his nightly performances, and a few morning ones as well. He wasn't exactly a young man, either. Bryn was young and pretty though, and no doubt Ulfric thanked his lucky stars every night for such a wife, though she wasn't really Ralof's mug of mead. He liked his women unable to break him into pieces and breathe fire. Well, it was just a testament to what a great man Ulfric was that he had landed a Dragonborn wife and managed her so well.

"I'm not sure our lady realizes that."

"Ee-ooh," he said with a grimace. "All right then."

"She and Ulfric are still newlyweds, and unfortunately haven't been able to spend much time together yet, so when she heard you and Iona going at it she was a bit…frustrated, shall we say."

"Ah shit." He felt his face growing warm, something he wasn't exactly used to.

"She's also been a bit upset since we visited Whiterun. About Vilkas." Ralof frowned, his expression shifting to one that Rikke had trouble placing. Guarded, certainly. She knew quite well that his heart still belonged first and foremost to Ulfric, and that he felt his duty was to guard Ulfric's wife, no matter the vow he had taken to the High Queen personally. Rikke hadn't missed his measuring gaze as he'd looked between Vilkas and Bryn; no doubt Ralof worried that their lingering feelings for each other could someday spell trouble for Ulfric. Rikke pulled a chair over to the fire and sat down to keep an eye on breakfast, saying, "I'm going to tell it to you straight, son, because our lady said I could. She and Vilkas still love each other. Ulfric knows this and told her that he knows it, the night of the Moot. Ulfric talked to Vilkas and the two worked it out between them, man-to-man. Vilkas gave their marriage his blessing."

Dismayed, Ralof asked, "Why would he do that when he obviously still loves her? You saw the man, he couldn't even bear to look at her!" Even through his dismay he felt a huge wave of relief that Rikke had told him this before they returned to Windhelm. He would have made himself look like a fool, a tattle-tale, for running to Ulfric with the news that the Queen and Vilkas still cared for each other. It made him feel like a child for even considering it.

"Because he wants what's best for our lady, and he knows it isn't him. So does the Queen. But that doesn't make the feelings go away. Time's the only thing that can do that." Ralof nodded, though Rikke doubted that at his age he knew a whole hell of a lot about real love. Even Rikke had fallen in love from time to time in the past, and her affairs would put Ralof's to shame. "_Grohiiki_…it means my wolf in the dragon tongue."

"Ah. I see." The Circle had always worn wolf armor, until for some reason they decided to put the tradition aside after Kodlak Whitemane's death.

"She was mortified when she found out you had heard that. She knows she mumbles in her sleep sometimes. She's never slept well, not even as a child, and since coming to Skyrim it's been worse, for reasons that go without saying. Our Queen is an incredibly strong woman, in many ways, but every so often she gets tired, or lonely, or afraid. She never fears for herself, but she fears for Ulfric, and the people she has come to care about. You and I must do what we can to make things easier on her. She bears incredible burdens. Think of her as she was when she first woke up in that wagon with you, and then think about what she is now, what she's been through in such a short period of time. It would break any normal person."

Ralof nodded and murmured, "Yes ma'am."

"You're a good kid, Ralof. I mean that." He smiled brightly at her, and she chuckled to herself and gave the porridge a stir. He was a pretty one, that was for certain. She would have taken him for a tumble herself if she were about ten years younger. Which she was not. Rikke sighed and said tiredly, "I wonder how much more of this vampire business we're in for. I have to admit that I didn't think it would take this long, or involve this much running about."

He shrugged, unconcerned, and stood to get dressed. "Who knows? However long it takes, I suppose." He nudged her as he passed and said with a grin, "What's the matter, not having fun anymore?"

"Between you and me, it hasn't been what I would call fun from the start. Interesting, sure. I've seen things in the last month I never would've guessed I would live to see, and I wouldn't trade that for anything, or being in the Queen's service. But as you may have noticed, I'm not a young girl."

"Ah, come on Rikke, you could have fooled me." She laughed at his flirty comment, making him chuckle. He wasn't entirely joking; he could tell she had been quite lovely when she was young, and she was still an attractive woman. It was fairly obvious that Galmar had a thing for her, and obvious that she was studiously ignoring that fact. Ralof thought they would make a nice couple, or at least a convenient one. He wasn't really sure what Rikke had against the arrangement, since the two seemed to get along well enough, other than her Imperial pride and refusal to take up with a former Stormcloak. One who had been the top Stormcloak officer. The Stormcloak general. For all her talk about healing Skyrim, Rikke sure liked to cling to the past. It was as if she expected only the Stormcloaks to be the ones to give.

She said, "I think I do well enough for myself, but…" She sighed heavily. She was dreading hitting the road again. She blessed Bryn's heart for stopping here overnight, but the thought of going all the way across the country again made her want to cry. When she had asked to serve Bryn she hadn't imagined she would be running back and forth across Skryim like this. It made her feel like a weakling for it.

Ralof pulled on his shirt and said, "So get another warrior to take your place, and stay in Windhelm answering the Queen's letters and fending off her visitors. Jorleif seemed a bit stressed, from what I could tell. This isn't what you signed up for, and our lady knows that. That's why she suggested staying here last night instead of pushing on." Rikke sighed again, and he went on, "The Queen would probably feel better knowing she has someone in Windhelm looking after her interests. Ulfric's court has its own work to do."

"Hm. Cute _and_ smart." He laughed, blushing. She got up to find some bowls and stretched. "Let me think about it until we return to Windhelm, or something else comes up." She had the feeling things were going to get nastier once they found the moth priest, and the Queen would be better served by another young, strong warrior in Rikke's place. She just wasn't cut out for this, not at her age, and the life of a Legionnaire wasn't an easy one, so it had definitely taken its toll on her body. She felt a certain pride in how she had kept up so far with the youngsters, but she didn't think she would be able to keep up much longer, and once she was unable to keep up she would become a liability. She had no illusions about that.

Since they were heading to Dragon Bridge, Rikke thought she might suggest they head up to Solitude once they found the priest. Tullius hadn't been in town when they last visited, so she wanted to visit with him, and if she was going to find a replacement she was not going to let it be another former Stormcloak, no matter how well Ralof had worked out so far. It would have to be a Nord, of course, and with the young, handsome Ralof always about it would be better if it were another male so the two guards could keep their minds on the task of looking after the Queen. Not that a same-gender pair was immune to fooling around, but she hadn't noticed that Ralof went that way.

_Hadvar,_ she thought suddenly, nearly saying the name out loud. Yes, Hadvar would do nicely, if he could be convinced to resign his commission with the Legion, and if Tullius could be convinced to let him go. Bryn still spoke very fondly of the young man, a year and a half later, and he had a strong record as a soldier and captain. Rikke knew there had been tension between Hadvar and Ralof, who had been childhood friends but had ended up on opposite sides of the war. Well, they would put it behind them and behave themselves, for the Queen's sake. If Rikke could learn to get along with Galmar and Ulfric, and vice versa, anything was possible.


	41. Chapter 41

"Ambushed by vampires," Dexion Evicus said thoughtfully as they entered the gates of Solitude. "I certainly wasn't expecting that."

"No one ever does," Rikke replied in a tired tone.

He looked at Bryn and asked again, "And you're truly the High Queen of Skyrim?"

"Yes, I am," Bryn stated, trying not to sound testy. "Why, do I not look queenly enough?"

"Oh! Well…I can't say that I know what a Queen should look like," he said, sensing her irritation. "I had heard there was a Queen here now, but…well, I'm used to the Emperor. The finery and dozens of retainers and all that."

"I can't exactly fight vampires in finery!"

"Yes, I'm sure things are done differently up here. In ah, Skyrim." He saw the guards and all the nearby citizens bow deeply to Bryn as they entered the city, murmuring greetings to her, and he said in dismay, "Oh my. I ah…I apologize Queen Brynhilde. I'm ever so grateful for your help, you realize-"

"Yes, yes," she sighed. She turned to Ralof and asked, "Could you take him to the house, please? Rikke and I are going to see Tullius. And don't let him out of your sight."

"Yes my lady," he murmured. Bryn had been irritated for several miles now, with the priest's chattering and cluelessness. Ralof had expected a certain amount of oddness out of the fellow, but it hadn't bothered him much. The Queen however hadn't particularly enjoyed being treated like some common mercenary, Dexion not taking anyone's word that she was the ruler of Skyrim seriously until just now. Even her Shouting at a pack of wolves to calm them on the way here hadn't seemed to convince him.

They parted ways at the market, and as they walked up the ramp Bryn let out a calming breath. It was a bit ridiculous to let the old man get to her. She glanced at Rikke and saw a wistful expression on her face as she looked up at Castle Dour. "Miss it?"

"Oh, not really. Not the Castle, anyway. Legion life, a bit. The order, the routine," Rikke answered.

"Speaking of that, I've been thinking about things. Since Riften."

"Ah. Actually my lady, so have I. And Ralof."

"Really," Bryn said in surprise, stopping up by the fletcher's shop.

Rikke frowned and stated in a tone of defeat, "I've said this before, too many times it seems…I'm not young. I'm so sorry, but…I'm not cut out for this, my Queen. I'm exhausted." There was a reason most Legionnaires retired in their early fifties. The fighting started really catching up with you by that point. Well this wasn't just fighting. It was fighting, walking, running, sleeping on the ground in a bedroll, and not eating regular hot meals. Even war was more comfortable than this! In the Legion there were supply lines and support staff to keep everyone fed and see to at least a minimum level of comfort.

"Oh Rikke," she sighed. "I wish you had said something sooner."

"I didn't realize this quest would take so long."

"Frankly neither did I. I expected to find the source of the problem, kill it, and go home." She folded her arms and repeated, "Home. That's what I've been thinking about. I have no one back there taking care of things. _My_ things. Jorleif tries but it isn't his job. He has his hands full with Windhelm business, Eastmarch business. I can tell all this running around isn't agreeing with you. If we can find someone to take your place out here so you can take care of my affairs in Windhelm, I think it would be easier on everyone."

Rikke nodded, letting out a sigh of relief, though she couldn't help feeling a bit guilty. "Thank you, my Queen. I'm sorry, but…"

"No. No sorries," she said firmly, putting her arm through Rikke's as they began walking toward the castle again. "I've noticed it's been hard, and unfortunately it isn't going to get any easier."

"That's what I'm afraid of, and frankly… It isn't that I don't trust Jorleif, or Ulfric. But if you've already gotten that many letters and visitors, someone needs to be there to see to the bigger picture."

"Exactly. Until I get rid of the vampires I won't have the time to work on bringing the country back together, or forming any kind of court. I want Helgen rebuilt. I want trade flowing freely through the passes again. I don't feel good about how long I've already spent on vampires when I'm supposed to be holding court and resolving disputes. If know you're in Windhelm holding things together until I'm done I'll rest easier."

"Yes my lady." By the Divines, she was relieved. The thought of sleeping in a warm, soft bed every night and being out of the weather made her weak in the knees. The thought however of being around Galmar every day wasn't quite so wonderful. And he was always around.

"All I ask is that if the matter is something that involves former Stormcloaks that you think might cause controversy…please ask Ulfric or Galmar's point of view, as I would."

"Of course, my Queen."

"Good, it's settled then. We'll keep our eyes out for a partner for Ralof. A _male_ partner." Rikke laughed at that. Poor Ralof had been so embarrassed the morning after his rendezvous with Iona that he could hardly look Bryn in the eye, while Iona had seemed blissfully unaware of Bryn's discomfort the previous night. Bryn would miss female companionship on the road, but she didn't want Rikke's replacement and Ralof constantly making eyes at each other and not focusing on the job at hand. She just hoped Ulfric didn't get upset about his wife traveling about with two young men. He had seemed to ease up a bit while she was home, and had seemed fine when she left, but Rikke had been with her then. She thought she might write him a letter tonight then send it off by courier in the morning when they left Solitude to return to Fort Dawnguard, but she hadn't decided yet whether to tell him she was changing her guard. She didn't know whether to warn him in advance but risk him stewing over it while she was away, or springing it on him when she got home. Neither option was entirely palatable.

They entered Castle Dour without any challenge from the guards, both Imperials who bowed slightly to her as she passed. The castle was a hive of activity, but all went quiet as Bryn passed, soldiers moving out of her way with polite bows or inclinations of the head. She acted as if everything were normal, Rikke following in her wake silently. The soldiers here all seemed to be high-ranking, and their silence was a bit eerie. She found Tullius in the war room, talking to Commander Maro, who smiled broadly as she approached, his son at his back. "Commander Maro," she said with pleasure. "It's so good to see you again."

"And you, Queen Brynhilde," he said with a bow. It was interesting hearing the soft thunder in her voice when she spoke. He had heard about it but had thought it an exaggeration. It certainly wasn't. He should have known that no rumors about her were ever exaggerated. And the eyes! Spooky as hell, but wondrous.

"We passed through Dragon Bridge this morning. I wondered why you weren't there." She looked at Tullius and inclined her head to him. "General Tullius."

"Queen Brynhilde," Tullius replied politely, giving her a small bow. She smiled slyly, no doubt pleased to be bowed to by him. He put his hands behind his back and said, "As you're no doubt aware, Commander Maro is responsible for the Emperor's security here in Skyrim. The Emperor had planned to attend his cousin Vittoria's wedding, however the situation here being what it was that was not possible. The situation here has stabilized, for now—"

"For now?" Bryn asked in a tone of mock curiosity as she folded her arms. "What would destabilize it, pray tell?"

"We have reports of bands of Stormcloak soldiers who are not following orders to return home."

"How would bands of rogue soldiers destabilize Skyrim any more than bands of bandits? How many people are we talking about?"

"Altogether…hard to say. A couple hundred at most. However that isn't an inconsequential number."

"Yes it is. The type of people who would resist orders to disband and would disobey Ulfric and his commanders are the type of people who are unlikely to organize into large enough groups to put up any kind of resistance." Tullius and Maro looked at each other but didn't argue her opinion. "The last time I was in Windhelm, Ulfric and Galmar were meeting with the commanders and going through the last stages of completely disassembling the Stormcloak forces. Most have gone home. Some have either tried and gotten resistance, or fear going home out of worry they'll be persecuted. I gave the commanders my…strong feelings about that. I told the commanders as I was leaving that if I run into any renegades who refuse to disband that I will destroy them." Tullius nodded slowly, his hands still behind his back. "Give it another month or two, long enough for me to finish up with the vampires. If you're still getting reports when I'm done, I'll get up on Odahviing and scout out the stragglers. I think wiping out a few groups and letting word of it get out will be quite a strong incentive for the others to fall into line. The ones who don't are deciding to become bandits."

"All right then," he said in a satisfied voice. He nodded to Rikke and said, "You look well, Rikke."

Rikke smiled briefly at him and replied, "Thank you, General. So do you."

Bryn added, "Yes, you look a bit more…relaxed." He stared at her, and when she blinked and smiled innocently at him he pursed his lips and grunted. She very much doubted he had struck up any kind of romance with Elisif, or ever would, but it was fun to needle him about it.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Tullius went on, "now that the situation in Skryim is stabilizing, the Emperor has indicated an interest in visiting the province. In particular, he would like to meet you, Queen Brynhilde." Bryn gazed at him, waiting, her eyes getting that intensity to them that so many found unsettling. Well, he did too, but he wasn't going to let on. That she was getting that look in regards to the Emperor was what bothered him most. "Is there a problem, Queen Brynhilde?"

"I haven't decided yet," she murmured. "I was expecting to be called to the Imperial City, so the Emperor could make a show of his Dragonborn vassal to the Elder Council and the Thalmor. Instead he comes here, to my country—sorry, province—and I can only hope he does not make the mistake of taking a tour of it."

Commander Maro stiffened then said in a stern tone, "Begging your pardon, but I find that troubling, Queen Brynhilde."

"Please, no need to keep calling me that, and I'm not making threats, Commander. I said I _hope_ he doesn't tour Skyrim. I say that because it will look as if he's strutting about taking inventory and gloating. Not that I would believe that, but a majority of Nords would. While the situation may be stabilizing, it is still new, and emotions are still raw. I would rather not have my people provoked, especially when it is my people who are going to be called on to fight in another war. I assume the Emperor received the box?" Both men nodded. "And?"

"He's holding onto it until the time is right," Commander Maro stated.

"It won't keep forever."

"He has mages making sure it will."

"Ah. All right. I will wait. We could use the time." She glanced around the room, seeing the officers all standing at parade rest. Well, if Tullius and Maro felt comfortable speaking openly about matters, so would she. "So, while we're waiting for a war to start, I have something I wanted to speak to you about, General. Helgen."

"Helgen," he said with a frown. "What about it?"

"I want it rebuilt." His eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. "We visited there a little while back, to show Rikke and reminisce."

"You mean you and Ralof."

Bryn shrugged. "He's a good fighter and very devoted to the safety of Ulfric Stormcloak's wife. He got me away from the block and Alduin. He's a good man." Tullius didn't respond, his expression not changing. "I've been back to Helgen several times, trying to keep it free of bandits. It never stays free long. Rikke and I were discussing the need to have such a strategic position rebuilt."

Tullius nodded, saying, "Actually, this is something we've discussed here a few times. Helgen does need to be rebuilt, as soon as possible."

"All I ask is that the headman's block be kept there, and the single broken tower behind it. As a reminder."

"Gruesome, but doable." He wasn't about to ask her what it was supposed to be a reminder of. He wasn't interested in any philosophical debates with her, or anyone else. What she asked wasn't much, to be fair.

"When can it get started?"

"Right away. We have too many people sitting around here waiting for orders. They need to be kept busy. I'll have to ask you to write a letter to Jarl Dengeir, notifying him that there will be Imperial activity in the area. The last thing I need is his paranoia making things difficult." Bryn nodded agreeably. "There are other matters I wanted to discuss with you, eventually, but since you're here we'll get right to it. Since the war broke out, Skyrim's tribute has slowed considerably. The Emperor of course doesn't expect back taxes to be paid, and he realizes people are still unsettled and time is needed to get trade flowing again, however we're preparing for a war. Imperial soldiers need to be paid and outfitted."

"How much are we talking about, right now?" Rikke had warned her about this aspect of governance, one she found distasteful even if she understood the necessity of it.

"The equivalent of two hundred and fifty thousand septims should see us through the next six months."

"That's it?" she said in surprise.

Tullius frowned and said, "Yes. We felt with the state of Skyrim's economy that the figure should be conservative."

"Does it have to be in gold?"

"No, though that would be preferable."

"I'll have it to you by the end of the day." She heard Rikke snort as the soldiers in the room shifted and looked at each other, and Maro looked at Tullius with a slightly confused expression. "I can do half in gold and the rest in jewelry, weapons and armor. I'm glad all my adventuring will end up benefiting Skyrim's people. I refuse to have tax collectors going around harassing anyone right now."

"Thank you, Queen Brynhilde," he said with a nod of his head. "I will make sure word gets out that you did this." It was an outrageously generous gesture, one that stunned even him. He had heard that she had ridiculous amounts of treasure stored away in each of her houses, but he hadn't imagined that she had the ability to simply gather up a quarter million septims worth just like that.

Maro added, "And I will make certain that Emperor Titus hears of this, personally." He hesitated then added, "I will suggest to his Imperial Majesty that he limit his visit to Solitude. I believe that may have been his intent all along, but I will ascertain that."

Bryn smiled and said, "Thank you both. I'm glad we have that all worked out." She most certainly did want the Jarls and the people of Skyrim to know she had done this for them, and she wanted Titus Mede II to know what she was willing to do for her people. "Any idea when this visit might take place?"

"We will make sure you're the first to know, Queen Brynhilde," Maro stated.

"Well, I will see how quickly I can get the vampires dealt with so that won't be a security concern. It hasn't gone quite as smoothly as I expected. The problem is a bit larger than anticipated."

Tullius dryly said, "Nothing you can't handle, I'm certain, Dragonborn."

"There is nothing I can't handle, General, as long as it can be handled by sword or _thu'um."_

"Not everything can, unfortunately."

"I'm still on a learning curve." She smiled at Rikke and said, "And Rikke has been invaluable in that regard, and so many others." Rikke smiled back, her cheeks dimpling, something that Galmar probably found rather cute. She went on to the men, "Rikke is going to be seeing to my business in Windhelm when we get back. I need someone there looking after my interests while I wrap things up. So I will need another strong arm at my side to take her place."

Tullius stated, "Someone who is not a former Stormcloak, I would hope."

"Preferably not, but a Nord is a Nord at this point." She changed the subject by saying, "So, General. Elisif." She saw a slight twitch along his jaw, barely noticeable but telling. She waited to see if he was going to stop her, or suggest they speak in private, and he didn't. "What do you want me to do? The last time I came through Solitude she refused to see me. Something tells me that will be the case this time. The fact that I'm doing her the courtesy at all should mean something, considering what she did at the Moot."

"So it was being done as a courtesy then?"

"How would it look to pass through a Jarl's city and not pay a visit? Yes, it was done as a courtesy, because she still needs to rule Haafingar. It was also done to remind her of my position, and hers. The Jarls should be aware that I can show up any place at any time while I'm rooting out the vampires, and after that." She smiled at him. "Kind of like the way I showed up here." He stared at her, waiting, none of the people in the room reacting in any way. She rolled her eyes and said in exasperation, "Good grief, you Colovians." She had never seen such a dry, humorless bunch. Maybe just the ones who joined the Legion were like that. She hoped the Emperor had more personality than most of the Colovians she had met in her life.

"I'll have another talk with Jarl Elisif and ask her to make certain she's more receptive to your calls in the future. Is there anything else we can do for you, Queen Brynhilde?"

"Fine, fine, I'm going." She patted Rikke on the shoulder and said, "You can catch up, if you'd like. I want to stop by Radiant Raiment and see if the snooty sisters have anything new in stock."

"Yes, my Queen," Rikke murmured with a bow. The Imperials inclined their heads or bowed slightly to Bryn, and she strode out of the castle, probably eager to get away from the Legionnaires. They weren't as dull as Bryn thought, but when they were dealing with military matters they were all business.

Tullius looked Rikke over and said, "Your new life seems to suit you, Rikke." She looked extremely toned and fit, and her gear was impressive.

"It's been interesting, sir."

"You don't need to call me that any longer."

"Habit." He nodded, giving her a hint of a smile that warmed her. He hadn't been happy when she retired, but he had understood. He motioned for the others in the room to carry on, and she moved closer to him as Commander Maro and his son left the room. "As the Queen said, I'm going to be staying at Windhelm for the most part once we get back. Her business is not Ulfric's."

"Agreed. So how has that been working out for you?"

"They've been decent," she admitted. "They rib me every so often, but it's all in fun, and I give back as good as I get. They _are_ committed to following through on the Queen's orders, I can attest to that. They're committed to peace in Skyrim."

"Good. Let's hope it stays that way."

"She was serious, sir. She will destroy any roving bands of rogue Stormcloak soldiers. Believe me, the things I have seen her do in the last month have been…beyond legendary. She wasn't exaggerating that day she first showed up here when she said there was no Legion left in Tamriel that could take her down, and she's gotten even more powerful since. She will be the one who wins the war against the Dominion."

"Well, as I have often said, battles are won by trained and disciplined men, but wars are won by talented and exceptional individuals. She is exceptional, no doubt about it. I've made the Emperor as aware of that as I can." He folded his arms and went on, "I have to admit, I'm concerned about the Emperor coming here. I told Maro it was a bad idea, but the Emperor insists on meeting her and doesn't want to take her out of Skyrim yet, not when the situation here is still somewhat fragile. I think he feels that it's a sign of good faith that he is making the effort to come to her, but I don't know if you Nords are going to see it that way."

She smiled at him and said, "Ah, so you _are_ learning." He laughed quietly at that. He was certainly a handsome man when he smiled, something he did so rarely. At least it seemed his burdens had lightened somewhat since the Moot, knowing Skyrim had a strong High Queen in place. If Elisif had ascended the throne Tullius might have been stuck in Skyrim forever, holding her hand and basically being forced to rule through her, something Rikke knew he had absolutely no desire to do. Bryn had mentioned to Rikke that she thought Tullius wanted Elisif and his propriety would never allow it, and Rikke had been horrified by the notion at first then had gradually realized that yes, the signs had been there. Elisif was young enough to be Tullius' daughter, but that hadn't stopped Ulfric from marrying Bryn. But then Tullius was older than Ulfric, and Elisif younger than Bryn.

"So, what's on your mind, Rikke?"

"Besides Helgen?"

"We've had plans drawn up all along to rebuild. We were just waiting for enough stability to do so, and the Queen's approval. Now that we have that, we can move ahead." Rikke nodded. "I'm sure Brynhilde would like you to have some input into that. As soon as she gets sign-off from the Jarl of Falkreath we'll get started."

"Good. So…Legionnaire Hadvar."

"Hadvar," Tullius said in surprise. "Yes, what about him?"

"I'm going to be frank and say that I'm too damn old to keep running around after the Queen. It's kicking my ass." Tullius laughed shortly at that, though his gaze was wary. "I want Hadvar to replace me in the Queen's service, if you will agree to release him from the Legion." Tullius pursed his lips, staring at her. "The Queen speaks very highly of him. Always has. And there's a nice balance there, don't you think? He and Ralof both helped the Queen out of Helgen, and survived. One a former Stormcloak, the other a former Legionnaire. Boyhood friends."

"And enemies as adults."

"They'll get over it. They won't have a choice, any more than Skyrim does, or I did when I followed the Queen to Windhelm."

Tullius frowned and stated, "Hadvar is a promising young soldier."

"Yes, one of many the Legion has. He might even make his mark someday. However as one of the Queen's Guards that is going to happen much more quickly." Tullius grunted, seeming to think it over. "I want my replacement to come from the Legion. I want him to be a Nord and a professional soldier. Ralof is a good warrior, very good, and he'll get better yet, but he was never truly a soldier. Hadvar is a couple years older than Ralof, experienced, and disciplined. I think with time, once any resentment wears off, they'll complement each other." She sighed and said, "I have to find someone, soon. I can't keep doing this. I will, if I have to, but I would rather not. Running around like this is a young person's game, and honestly, even a young person would have trouble keeping up with the Dragonborn." She saw Tullius' tongue in his cheek as if he was debating whether to say something, and she asked in a sly tone, "Wondering how Ulfric does it?"

"If I am, I'm sure as hell not going to say it out loud." Rikke laughed at that. Tullius let out a long, thoughtful breath, then after a moment let his hands fall as he said, "I'm going to leave the decision up to Hadvar. He has fulfilled his minimum five-year obligation, and he's nearly up for his second re-enlistment. I can let him go a bit early in the interest of good relations with the High Queen."

Rikke nodded, pleased and relieved. "Thank you, sir. I think she'll be very pleased with the arrangement."

"If Hadvar agrees."

"I don't see any reason why he wouldn't."

"He comes from a long line of Legionnaires. He wanted to make a full career of it."

"He'll probably make it as far as I did. Not that Legate isn't an extremely respectable position. But I would say that personally serving the High Queen of Skyrim is something more to aspire to."

"We'll see if Hadvar feels the same way."

* * *

Bryn ran into Ralof's back as he froze in the doorway of Proudspire Manor. He had just accompanied her to Castle Dour to drop off her tribute to the Empire, something that he had done with obvious resentment. Obvious to her, anyway; Tullius hadn't seemed to notice, or maybe he just hadn't cared. The Imperial soldiers had been agog at the display of obscene wealth: fifty thousand septims worth of coin, another fifty thousand in jewelry, and the rest in enchanted weapons. It had put a sizable dent in her Solitude cache, but Jordis had seemed relieved if anything to see it go. She hadn't fended off the level of assault that Iona had, but there had been attempted break-ins.

"Ralof, what…" She grunted and gave him a shove, and he grumbled and moved aside, muttering an apology. She felt a shock run through her as she saw the man standing next to Rikke. He was shorter than Ralof but more heavily built, his eyes a steely blue, brown-haired, his features on the craggy side. Bryn would recognize him anywhere, but her joy was tempered by the cold stare he had pointed at Ralof, who glared back bitterly. She moved between the two of them, breaking the face-off, and Ralof huffed and turned away to close the door, putting his back to it as he folded his arms. Bryn went to Hadvar and put her hands on his shoulders, and he let out a tense breath and smiled. "It's good to see you again, my friend," she murmured. He had a scar across the bridge of his nose that hadn't been there before. He was dressed in heavy Imperial armor, with a helmet tucked under one arm.

"And you, my Queen," he said with as much happiness as he could muster. "I've been following your career since we parted ways in Riverwood, as best I could." The change in her was every bit as startling as he had heard. His memories were that of a sickly-thin stork of a girl who barely looked strong enough to pick up a weapon let alone wield it as well as she had. Now she spoke with the voice of a dragon and looked through the eyes of a Divine. He thanked Talos every day since hearing that she was Dragonborn that he had followed his gut and saved her. He had known there was something different about her, something meaningful.

"I hope I've reaffirmed your faith in me."

He laughed slightly at that. "I would say so, my lady. I would most definitely say so."

As she let her hands fall she said, "We'll be sitting down to dinner in a little bit. I hope you can stay."

Rikke stated, "I already took the liberty, my lady."

"Ah, good." She glanced behind her to see Ralof staring at Hadvar with an expression of almost hurt on his face. She was sure this wasn't easy for either of them, when the last time they had seen each other was with Helgen burning down around them after Ralof had nearly gone to the block. Hadvar had told her on the way to Riverwood how much it had upset him to call for execution the name of someone who had been his childhood friend. Hadvar had tried to reason with the Stormcloaks during the escape from Helgen and they hadn't listened.

Ralof noticed Bryn's gaze and met it, saying in a rough voice, "I'll go help Jordis with dinner, if that's all right, my Queen."

"I'm sure she has everything under control." Ralof's expression tightened then he nodded and lowered his gaze, but not before he gave Hadvar another look of resentment. Bryn resisted the urge to roll her eyes and turned back to Hadvar, asking, "What brings you by? Just visiting?"

Hadvar grimaced a bit then looked to Rikke for help, and the older woman said, "I've been trying to convince Hadvar to leave the Legion and take my place by your side." Bryn's eyes widened in surprise, though a bright smile quickly spread over her face. Rikke heard a sound of dismay from Ralof, and her expression hardened as she said to him, "It isn't your call, lad, or your place to protest it. You had no problem working with me—"

"Begging your pardon, ma'am," Ralof said in a tense voice, "but I have no history with you."

"The history you have with Hadvar isn't all bad. In fact I would say there is more good than bad there."

"That's what makes this so…intolerable."

"You're saying you couldn't tolerate working with Hadvar? Is that what you're telling me, and our Queen?" His gaze shifted to Bryn, who stared back calmly, neutrally. Caught, Ralof didn't answer, biting his lip. "What do you think Ulfric would say? What would he expect of you?" she prompted.

"He would expect me to shut my mouth and do my job," Ralof muttered. "Ma'am." Ulfric would be extremely disappointed in him for behaving like this. Like a child. But by Talos, to have to work with Hadvar would be deeply aggravating, and Hadvar didn't look any happier about the prospect. It wasn't as if he actually hated Hadvar, or Hadvar hated him. Well, not too much anyway. It was that…well, he wasn't sure what. Helgen was a big part of it though.

Bryn sighed and said, "That isn't what I expect. It isn't Ulfric you're serving, it's me." That was something she still wasn't sure Ralof completely understood yet. She went to Ralof and put her hands on his upper arms, and he looked at her with a pained expression. "Ralof," she murmured.

"Yes, my lady."

"We're trying to heal rifts, here."

"I know that, my lady. I'm sorry. I just…ugh."

"For now, Hadvar is just visiting and having dinner, that's all. I just want to catch up with him and see how he's been. I owe him my life, as much as I do you, if not more. You're both important to me."

Ralof gazed into her golden eyes, seeing the pleading there, and he nodded and murmured, "Of course, my Queen." The idea of disappointing her was horrible to him, and he could tell she was close to being disappointed in him. She expected better of him. If Ulfric and Galmar could set aside so many years of resentment and welcome Rikke into their home, the least he could do was keep his mouth shut and his eyes from glaring. If Ulfric found out that Ralof had shirked his duty in any way he would be in for it, but if he found out it was because of something like this he would lose his position quicker than he could blink, and possibly be banished back to Riverwood too. His family would be humiliated. He would never forgive himself. He had already messed up once with his bedroom antics in Riften.

Bryn gave him a smile of approval then turned away and motioned for Hadvar to sit, and he waited for her to do so before taking his seat. She said to him, "I just came back from Castle Dour. I must have missed you."

Hadvar replied, "I was patrolling the waterfront, my lady. On my way off duty I was told to come here, to talk to Rikke. I thought perhaps you wanted to visit, but I wasn't expecting… I'm very flattered, my Queen. I truly am."

"But?"

"I'm just a soldier. I'm no one special."

Rikke said, "You survived Helgen, when few others did."

"More would have survived if they had listened to me." He looked at Bryn and added, "Every one of them was a wasted life. They haunt my dreams more than any dragon."

"I know, mine too," Bryn softly stated, "for the longest time. But they made their choice, and in the end they went to Sovngarde either way." If Alduin hadn't feasted on their souls, anyway. "When I was there I saw Nord soldiers from both sides, both just as dead, but when Alduin was defeated and they began walking towards the Hall of Valor, they were arm in arm, brothers in death." Hadvar stared at her with huge eyes. "I told Ulfric this and it made him want to weep. Think of the burdens he lives with, when dreams of Stormcloak dead haunt you."

"Yes, my Queen," he whispered.

"I didn't know Rikke had you in mind when she suggested someone take her place. But knowing it was you…it makes me happy, Hadvar. I'm not going to pressure you. Take your time to think about it, but know you aren't some ordinary soldier, any more than Ralof was an ordinary Stormcloak. Both of you saved my life. Both of you risked yourselves to get me out of Helgen. Both of you saw something in me worth saving, and therefore both of you saved the world."

His eyes stinging, Hadvar choked, "My lady…no, I don't see it that way at all. I'm…just…" He pulled his gaze away from her to look at Ralof. The blonde was staring at the Queen with worshipful eyes, and when they shifted to Hadvar then quickly away again he grimaced, torn. He didn't know what to do. He impulsively wanted to do this, but he knew it would be a difficult path. He would constantly be around Ralof, someone he had a rather awkward past with, and he would end up living in a den of Stormcloak bears. There was no longer a rebellion, but it was a given Ulfric's former followers still thought of themselves as Stormcloaks. Hadvar was adult enough to realize however that in time the divisions would fade, and he would get used to living in Windhelm, and Divines help him he would even learn to get along with Ralof. He also knew that no matter his modest words that he was a talented soldier, one of many in the Legion, just as Rikke had said, but as one of the Queen's Guards he would make a much greater difference in the world.

"Think about it," Bryn said.

Hadvar nodded slowly, still looking at Ralof, and when the other man glanced at him again he quietly asked him, "What say you, Ralof?" Ralof was startled by the question, his bright blue eyes flicking towards the Queen then back again.

"It is not my place to say anything at all," Ralof muttered.

"And what if it was? What then?"

"I would do what my Queen wants me to do."

Bryn said with a frown, "Your Queen wants you to speak your mind and be honest."

Ralof licked his lips, knowing she did indeed want that, and wouldn't censure him for it. He hesitated then looked at Hadvar, who waited for his answer. "I don't like him, my lady," he finally muttered.

"No one said you had to. But would you trust him? That's what matters."

"I…would trust him to guard you well, and not stick a knife in my back." Hadvar laughed in bitter disbelief at that, shaking his head. Ralof angrily said, "_That_ is what I don't trust. That I won't be subjected to mocking, and name-calling. Traitor and rebel, well I fought for what I believed in! My cousin was dragged away in the night, probably tortured to death by the Thalmor, and we never saw him again. What would you have done if it had been your cousin, Hadvar? Would you have just stood there as little Dorthe was taken away, or cut down in front of you? The same way you stood there and let Brynhilde get sent to the block when her name wasn't even on your damn list?"

Hadvar replied in a heated tone, "No, I would not have just stood there, and maybe that would have been enough to push me into rebelling, but it didn't happen. The Empire wasn't the one taking innocent people away and torturing them! And yes, I do consider Talos worshippers innocent. My parents still have a shrine in their basement. Every Nord soldier I know worships Talos, and most of the Imperials as well. He is the soldier's god, and by trying to take Talos away the Thalmor have tried to gut us. I don't apologize for the White-Gold Concordat at all, damn it. The Emperor did it to buy time, not knowing that Ulfric was going to do what he did one day. He planned all along to tear the damn thing up and drive the Dominion out of Tamriel." Ralof glared at him but didn't argue any of his points. "I understand why Ulfric did what he did, torture or not. Most Nord soldiers do, but we weren't yet ready to give up on the Empire. I can't believe that you think I would mock you and call you names, in front of the Queen or behind her back it doesn't matter. The civil war is _over._ We all fought for what we believed in. Neither side was entirely right or wrong."

Ralof said nothing at first, his jaw clenched, then he muttered, "Then we should all be glad that our Queen put a stop to it when she did, because we former Stormcloaks and Ulfric are the only thing that will enable the Empire to put down the Dominion."

"Yes, we all know that, and that is why the Emperor pardoned Ulfric, and the rest of you." He paused then said, "I hated sending her to the block. I knew it was wrong, but I am only one man. If I had disobeyed orders I would have gotten cut down just like the horse thief. But the second there was something I could do about it, I did it, like you did, and here we are today. Now what?" Ralof didn't answer, but his glaring seemed a little less intense. "I asked you what you thought, because you were the Queen's man first, and you already have your place, and I am not about to make a move that will end up causing nothing but problems. What good would it do to take Rikke's place if you're constantly on guard against _me?"_

The two men stared at each other, and after a long moment Bryn quietly said, "Both of you think about it during dinner. I'm leaving it to the two of you to decide between yourselves." Ralof made a sound of protest, and she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Ralof, but that's how it is. I need to know that you would be able to work together. I understand trust would take time to grow, and I'm not asking you two to become friends. I'm sorry if this lands more on you Ralof, but Hadvar is right: you were here first."

Bryn stood, Hadvar quickly following suit, and when the others headed toward the kitchen Ralof trailed after them. He couldn't help resenting that he was basically responsible for making the decision. He supposed he was glad that the Queen cared that much about his opinion, and he knew that in the end there was really only one decision he could make. Rikke wasn't young enough to stay on the road with Bryn and that was that, and if Hadvar didn't take her place they would have to find someone else to do it, someone the Queen didn't know and trust as she did Hadvar. Ralof knew damn well that Hadvar wasn't going to needle him, any more than Rikke had done, in fact Hadvar was in much more danger of being harassed in Windhelm, though it would never happen to the Queen's face.

Ralof stayed silent through dinner except when Rikke or Bryn asked him a question, keeping his eyes on his plate, anywhere but Hadvar, listening to how Hadvar responded to the Queen and Rikke, looking for any sign at all that this wouldn't work out, and in the end he couldn't find a compelling reason not to allow it. It was going to be stressful at first, and annoying, but he certainly wasn't going to let that be the reason not to do it. Ulfric wasn't going to be happy about it, but then Ulfric hadn't been happy about Ralof guarding the Queen either, and he had come to the uncomfortable conclusion lately that it was out of envy, something Ralof hadn't considered the Jarl being prone to. Ulfric didn't want someone young and handsome around his wife, and having another young man guarding his wife wouldn't go over well, though Ralof knew with complete honesty that he was better looking than Hadvar, and frankly Ulfric didn't have much to worry about with Hadvar for one very good reason, a reason that Bryn probably wasn't aware of. But then Ralof was straight as an arrow and wouldn't dream of sleeping with the Queen. The thought had never even crossed his mind, and not just because she was Ulfric's wife. He held her in too much reverence to view her as just a woman, and frankly he found her just a little terrifying now after seeing her in action. It took a certain kind of man to take a she-dragon to bed, and he wasn't that kind of man. That Ulfric was made him respect his Jarl all the more.

A couple hours later Hadvar was gone and Bryn getting ready for bed, and when a knock sounded on her bedroom door she knew it was Ralof with his answer. She opened the door and continued brushing out her hair, seeing a troubled look on Ralof's face. "Well? What did you decide?" she asked gently. As if she didn't know.

"It would be…acceptable, my Queen," he answered. She smiled at him approvingly and he blew out a long breath. "I'm sorry if I made things difficult, my lady. The shock of seeing him here when we got back… I knew Rikke wanted to replace herself with another Imperial, but I never expected him. I never thought I would have to see him again."

"The problems between you two…is it all just the civil war behind it? Or is there more to it than that?" He hesitated, and she let the brush fall and said, "If it's too personal, then it's none of my business—"

"It isn't that, it's just…old business."

"But you were friends once, weren't you? You grew up together."

"We were best friends, until he joined the Legion. He's a year and a half older than me, so when he turned seventeen his pa took him to Solitude to sign him up. I was proud of him for doing it. I envied him a little, but I never wanted to leave Riverwood, let alone Skyrim. I liked working at the mill. It was all I wanted for myself." He folded his arms and went on, "The first time he came back on leave he already seemed different. Older. The time after that I was of age and he wanted me to join up, to travel the world with him, and I didn't want to. He made fun of me for it, calling me a provincial, a coward. He was so smug after that, every time he came back. By time we both grew up and he stopped mocking me, apologized for the things he had said, it was too late. There was already too much resentment there. Then I joined Ulfric's cause, and… there was no fixing it by then."

Bryn sighed, "Oh Ralof. He isn't the same person he was then. Thinking of it now probably embarrasses him."

"I know, my lady. He stopped being that person long ago, but…it's hard to forgive. Maybe I never did, especially after the Thalmor took Dagnur away. They took him away because of agreements the Empire made, agreements the Emperor made a thousand miles from here. You can't simply outlaw a Divine! First you send it underground, make it harder and harder to practice the faith, and generation after generation fewer are worshiping, until there's no one left who remembers." Bryn shrugged, with the Amulet of Talos around her neck, and he sighed, "You already know all this, I know, I'm just…frustrated. So Hadvar joins us, fine, but…I don't feel any resolution. I don't know that I ever will."

"When the Second War with the Dominion is over and there are dead Elves as far as the eye can see, maybe then." Ralof stared at her, his mouth slightly open, then he nodded and swallowed. She patted him on the shoulder then let her hand fall away. "Thank you for this, Ralof. I appreciate it."

"I'm sorry I've made this difficult, my lady. I know I'll get used to him in time, but…I didn't want to."

"I understand." She sighed, "I just hope Ulfric does. I don't think he's going to be happy about this. He knows and trusts you, but between you and me, having two good-looking young men guarding me might be hard for him to take."

"He doesn't need to worry about Hadvar. Hadvar only sleeps with other men. Always has." Which had also caused some tension between them in the past, but the Queen didn't need to know that. Hadvar had outgrown that as well, and Ralof wasn't particularly worried about it. Hadvar was professional enough to not try to get into his pants, even if they did get along. Which they did not.

"Oh! Well then, that will make it easier. I'm going to send Ulfric a letter in the morning, telling him what's going on so he doesn't worry. Of course doing so will give him things to stew about until we get home, but better than surprising him."

Ralof said with an expression of worry, "Yes, my lady." He appreciated the confidence the Queen had given him, but it was still troubling thinking about Ulfric being jealous. Jealousy was born of insecurity, and Ralof would never have guessed that the Jarl of Eastmarch was capable of that. He supposed if he was an older, not so handsome man with a beautiful young wife he might get that way too, but Ulfric always seemed so strong, so confident. Bryn seemed to be Ulfric's weak point, but then Ralof supposed she would have to be, if she was the reason Ulfric had agreed to put an end to the rebellion. If Ulfric would do that, give up something he felt so strongly about, he would do just about anything. Ralof certainly wasn't about to give the Jarl any reason to worry if he could help it. Maybe subconsciously that was another reason he had agreed to let in Hadvar, knowing that if Ulfric knew the other man couldn't possibly ever have any kind of interest in Bryn that it would ease the Jarl's mind. That look on his Jarl's face wasn't one he ever wanted to see again.


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N: I wanted to publicly thank Kira Mackey for her kind reviews, and to also encourage everyone to read her fabulous Aldric tales. It will be time well-spent.**

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"'In an age of strife, when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness will mingle with light and the night and day will be as one'," Dexion murmured. "Hm. The voice fades, and the words begin to shimmer and distort. But wait, there is more here. The secret of the bow's power is written elsewhere. I think there is more to the prophecy, recorded in other Scrolls." He blinked, eyes focused on something none of the rest could see. "Yes, I see them now… One contains the ancient secrets of the dragons, and the other speaks of the potency of ancient blood. My vision darkens, and I see no more. To know the complete prophecy, we must have the other two Scrolls." The Scroll retracted into its case, and Dexion staggered slightly, rubbing his eyes. "I…must rest now. The reading has made me weary."

Isran took the priest's elbow, saying with surprising gentleness, "Come on, old man. You should get some rest." The elder nodded, clutching the Sun Scroll to his chest as Isran led him out of the room.

Once they were out of earshot Rikke muttered, "Great, we need more Scrolls."

Hadvar watched the priest stumble, but Isran kept hold of him, helping him along. He quietly said to Rikke, "He's going blind, isn't he."

"Aye lad, I think so," she said sadly. "I've heard it happens." At least Isran was finally treating the Queen with the utmost respect, seeming to realize how much everything hinged on her. He'd even stopped griping about her refusal to give up Dawnbreaker.

Ralof asked in a worried tone, "But…if we need to read the other two Scrolls, and he's blind…"

Rikke glanced at the Queen, and Bryn was watching the priest and Isran slowly walking away with a wild look in her eyes that Rikke had never seen before. Not once. Her entire body was taut as a bowstring, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Bryn blinked and swallowed, and when Rikke touched her she flinched, staring at her fearfully. _By the Nine, she's afraid,_ Rikke thought with a thrill of terror. Bryn was never afraid. "My Queen," she whispered. "What's wrong?"

Bryn shook her head. "Nothing," she choked. "Not a damn thing."

Serana cleared her throat and asked Bryn, "Um, do you have a moment to talk?"

"Not right now," Rikke barked. Serana stiffened then put her nose in the air and looked away, folding her arms. Rikke turned back to Bryn and said, "It should be easy enough to get the Dragon Scroll, my Queen. You sold it to the librarian at the College of Winterhold, right? I'm sure he could part with it for a bit." Bryn nodded. Rikke moved to stand in front of her, taking her by the upper arms. "Please," she pleaded with quiet intensity. "What is wrong? I think we should know."

Bryn took a deep breath, feeling sick to her stomach, and stated, "The priest is probably going to go blind. Who do you think is going to be expected to read the Scrolls once we have them all?" Rikke looked troubled, and Hadvar and Ralof glanced at each other with worry. She distantly noted it and wished she could feel glad about it. Their time on the road together had been tense, but other than a few curt snaps at each other early on they had gotten along as well as could be expected. They did their jobs and didn't make small talk, and Ralof didn't seethe too badly when Hadvar instinctively took the lead, which unfortunately he had to do as the older, more experienced warrior. She gently pulled away from Rikke and the older woman let her go. She rubbed her forehead, fidgeting, then she said in a fearful tone, "I lost my vision for a bit, after that first time, and afterward…I went a little, ah…mad."

"Mad!" Rikke squawked.

"It was temporary, but…what if this time it isn't? How the hell am I going to read more Elder Scrolls and be fine? I've already read one. I…I can't do this. I'll go blind or lose my mind, permanently this time. And then what? What good will I be then, to anyone? I won't be able to fight, and the war, by Talos, what about the war?" She wasn't afraid of dying. She never had been. But being cursed to a life of mad blindness was completely intolerable. She would kill herself if it came to that. She would climb to the peak of the Throat of the World and jump, and nothing and no one would stop her.

She shook her head and said, "No, I don't believe that for one second, my Queen. Any effects will be temporary at best. Do you really think the gods have taken you this far only to let you become some blind madwoman? No." Bryn folded her arms tightly, blinking, her breathing uneven, but the edge of her fear seemed to have lessened the slightest bit. "What brought you out of it before?"

"Sleep. And Vilkas and Farkas." She swallowed and went on, "I was exhausted. Alduin came, not long after I read the Dragon Scroll. I don't remember much for a few days after that." And next thing she knew she was waking up in Vilkas' bed, and he was refusing to marry her, and it was over. She closed her eyes, feeling a pang of old grief. Vilkas would have thrown a fit to find out she needed to read more Scrolls. He would have told her to wash her hands of the Dawnguard and walk away. Ulfric though… he would be worried, but he would have faith in her ability to do what needed doing and come through all right. Ulfric never doubted her strength, or her destiny. How she missed him. She opened her eyes and asked Serana, "All right, what did you want?"

The vampire looked at the Queen with worry, unable to help hearing everything. The thought of a mad Dragonborn was frightening even to her. She was well aware of the Queen's capabilities. And the Queen's intolerance for her kind. Bryn didn't even bother to avoid using Dawnbreaker when Serana was around, though she tried to make sure the vampire was out of range at least. Serana wasn't about to complain and was glad for what she could get out of the Dragonborn. "The moth priest said we needed two other Elder Scrolls, and you know where the Dragon Scroll is. I think I know where we can start looking for the Blood Scroll."

"You knew all along that we needed three Scrolls?" Rikke said in aggravation. "Why the hell didn't you say something earlier!"

"Half the people in your little crew would just as soon kill me as talk to me. That doesn't exactly make me want to open up. I got a warmer welcome from my father, and that's saying something."

"What is it between you two?" Bryn asked, annoyed. "How did all this start?"

"Ever since he decided to make that prophecy his calling, we kind of drifted apart." She paused then said with a hint of hurt, "I don't think he even sees me as his daughter anymore. I'm just…a means to an end."

Hadvar finally spoke up and asked, "All right, sad as that is, where is the Blood Scroll?"

"We need to find my mother, Valerica. She'll definitely know where it is, and if we're lucky, she actually has it herself."

Rikke stated with suspicion, "You told us you didn't know where she went."

"The last time I saw her, she said that she'd go somewhere safe…somewhere that my father would never search. Other than that she wouldn't tell me anything. But the way she said it: 'someplace he would never search'... It was cryptic, yet she called attention to it."

"Maybe your mother didn't trust you either," Hadvar suggested warily. He knew he certainly didn't. Vampires could never be fully trusted. They might cooperate with you for a while, if you had a common goal, but even this one would turn on them eventually, he was sure of it.

She snorted a laugh. "That's always a possibility. She was almost as obsessed as my father by time she shut me in. But I can't worry about that now. We need the Scroll, and she's our only lead. Besides, I can't imagine a single place my father would avoid looking, and he's had all this time, too." She hesitated then looked at Bryn, asking hesitantly, "Any ideas?"

Bryn nearly snapped at her to figure it out herself but settled for saying snidely, "I don't know, his own castle?" Serana's eyes widened, at first she thought in offense, then she nodded and smiled.

"Wait…that almost makes sense!"

Rikke groaned and said, "Of course it does. Divines preserve us." She wouldn't be going there, that was for damn certain. The two youngsters could traipse all the way across the damn province with the Queen but she'd be damned if she did. She could tell Bryn was highly aggravated by the idea, her nostrils flared as she stared intently at the vampire girl. Bryn didn't mind traveling, but heading all the way back the direction they had just come from…twice… Even the two young men didn't look pleased by the prospect. It certainly would have been nice if Fort Dawnguard was in a more central location.

After Serana finished her explanation, Bryn stared at her for a moment longer then turned on her heel and began striding out of the room. Serana hurried after her, crying, "Wait, where are you going!"

"I'm going home," Bryn snapped. "Meet me at Icewater Jetty in two weeks." She heard Rikke and the men follow, along with a sound of frustration from Serana.

"Two weeks? What on earth will you be doing for two weeks that's more important than this?"

Bryn rounded on her, making the vampire gasp and back up a few steps. "Nothing. I'm going to sit at home with my husband doing _absolutely nothing!"_ The sound roared through the keep and Serana shivered in fear, her orange eyes fixed on the Queen's golden ones. She saw heads peek around corners and ignored them, too angry to care how loud she was being. "You," Bryn demanded thunderously, "you will begin addressing me with respect, _sosnaak._ You will address me as my lady, or my Queen, and whether you believe I am or not I don't care. You are in _Keizaal,_ Skyrim, my land, my territory. _Zu'u los dovahsebrom!_ I am the Dragon of the North, and you will be careful, nightwalker, so that maybe I will find a reason to let you live when this is over."

Serana lowered her eyes, trembling, her hands clasped in front of her, and whispered, "Yes, my Queen."

"Two weeks!" Serana nodded, and Bryn turned and stormed out of the castle, not bothering to see if the other three were following, too angry to care. She could feel the anger and frustration boiling inside her, begging for release, and she didn't dare, not trusting what she would do if she gave it free rein. When they were outside the fort she kept walking, not slowing or pausing, feeling only small satisfaction as the soldiers and workers outside avoided her eyes and bowed low as she passed. As well they should. She was sick of all this running around, sick of being the only one in the world seemingly who could solve everyone's problems. She was the High Queen of Skyrim, and she was going to go home and spend a little time with her new husband. What was the point of being married if she was never home? It sent a sudden surge of grief through her; that had been one of Vilkas' reasons for not marrying. Well, she wasn't Vilkas, and neither was Ulfric, and she was going home to enjoy being married for a little while.

Her mood didn't improve over the next several hours as she kept walking toward Windhelm. As it began to grow dark she heard voices behind her and the muted jangle of armor, and she nearly whipped out her sword until she realized that the running feet were silent and she had spent all afternoon walking ahead of the people who were supposed to be guarding her. Or at least accompanying her, anyway.

"My lady," Rikke said breathlessly, more than a little angry, as Bryn came to a stop. "Can we _please_ stop in town for the night? At least long enough to eat and take a piss?" They were nearing Shor's Stone and she was damned if she was going to let Bryn walk all night without stopping, which she just might if she was left to her own devices. The single-mindedness of her pace had been as frightening as it was aggravating.

"Yes." Rikke came around to face her, her expression tense, and she muttered, "Sorry."

"I realize you want to get home, my Queen. If you want to get home that bad, call the dragon and fly home. Please." Bryn shook her head, and Rikke let it drop, seeing that Bryn was still stewing about something, and the last thing Rikke wanted was to have the anger turned on her. Lydia had warned her about that, before she and Farkas returned to Whiterun after the wedding, that if Bryn was left in her own head for any length of time that she would turn in on herself and start obsessing, but Rikke had been afraid to bother her all afternoon, and Ralof and Hadvar were even less keen to do so than her. When Bryn sighed heavily Rikke said, "It looks like it's going to rain soon, my lady. I'm sure one of the miners will let us stay indoors tonight."

"Sure."

Rikke tried not to sigh heavily as Bryn began walking again, her eyes straight ahead. She looked at the two young men, both obviously worried, and when she motioned them along they fell into step on each side of her. "I'll talk to Ulfric when we get back," she murmured.

"Yes ma'am," they answered softly. Better her than either of them, and frankly they weren't particularly excited about going back on the road with the Queen without Rikke there to manage Bryn. Neither of them had seen her temper before, and it had been terrifying. They hadn't thought her capable of it.

Rikke relaxed the slightest bit when Bryn raised her hand in greeting as the miners leapt to their feet, gathered around a fire eating dinner, and when she kindly asked a young, dark-haired woman how her leg was doing Rikke relaxed the rest of the way. They added their supplies to the meal and before long the town smith was there as well as all the off-duty guards. It was a pleasant way to pass the evening and made the townsfolk extremely happy, and Rikke was extremely happy when the young woman, Sylgja, offered her house for the night. She could tolerate sleeping on a bedroll as long as she had a roof over her head and was warm.

In the middle of the night Rikke woke to the sound of mumbling and rustling, and in the light from the banked fire she saw Bryn in the throes of a dream. Hadvar was sitting up on his elbow next to the Queen, looking worried, but Ralof slept deeply, as did Sylgja.

"Ehh…_zu'u los daniik! Fin Kelle…daniik!"_

Hadvar saw Rikke muttering the words to herself, as if trying to memorize them, probably to ask Ulfric about, since the Jarl knew the dragon language. When Bryn whimpered Hadvar reached out and gently shook her shoulder. It was the first time he had touched her since joining her service earlier that week, and it felt wrong, but he wasn't about to let her suffer in a nightmare. She snorted and grasped for his hand then fell back asleep, and when Hadvar looked at Rikke in dismay the older woman laughed softly and shrugged one shoulder then lay back down to sleep. Hadvar grimaced, not knowing what to do, and when the Queen's hand tightened on his in her sleep he sighed and lay down again, unable to do anything else. He whispered, "Gods, don't tell Ulfric. Or Ralof."

"Wouldn't dream of it, lad," Rikke replied in amusement.

Hadvar pillowed his head on his arm and did his best to go back to sleep, but it wasn't easy. Bryn most likely wouldn't remember this in the morning, since she had never really awakened, and if holding his hand brought her comfort so she could sleep more easily he wasn't about to deny her that. She had asked little of him in the short time they had been traveling together. She seemed to trust him, and like him, a great deal. He didn't regret his choice, though he supposed he hadn't yet had time to. It was Windhelm that had him the most anxious, the notion of living in the heart of Stormcloak territory more than a little worrisome, but if Rikke had gotten along all right there, there was no reason he wouldn't, and it wasn't as if he was walking around in Imperial gear any longer. Bryn had taken care of that before they left Solitude, and he was now the proud owner of a set of enchanted steel plate, the masculine version of Rikke's armor. He had to admit he was a bit envious of Ralof's dragonscale armor, but he had always been more comfortable in heavy armor. Rikke had given him her dragonbone sword though, _Fahliil-Kriid,_ and he couldn't wait to put the magnificent blade through its paces.

Bryn sighed in her sleep and murmured something unintelligible, her fingers twitching. Hadvar wasn't sure how Ulfric managed to sleep through Bryn's restlessness, though to be fair tonight was worse than he had seen so far, no doubt brought on by her extreme anxiety over reading more Elder Scrolls. Hadvar watched her face as she slept and pondered the strangeness of his current situation and how much Bryn had changed since they parted ways in Riverwood a year and a half ago. He had worried about the odd girl and how she would fare in Skyrim for weeks until word had started circulating that the Dragonborn the Greybeards had called was a blond half-Altmer girl who had survived Helgen, and there was only one person that could be, though he had never guessed during their brief acquaintance that Bryn wasn't entirely human. In hindsight it had been obvious, and a bit of a relief, actually. Easier to believe in her half-Elven blood than believe she was only a very odd Nord. It had certainly been a relief to his uncle Alvor. The poor man couldn't figure the girl out.

When Bryn's grip on his hand tightened again and a brief smile flashed over her face, Hadvar laughed softly and closed his eyes, wondering what she was dreaming about. At least this time it was good.

* * *

"Thank the Nine Divines," Jorleif said with wild relief as Bryn and her small entourage entered the Palace of Kings. He walked to meet them halfway and said to Rikke in a pleading tone, "Tell me you're serious about staying next time the Queen sets out. I can't take this anymore."

"Yes Jorleif, I'm staying," she reassured him. He blew out a breath of relief and smiled. Bryn headed straight for the back of the Palace to go upstairs, giving the steward only a nod in greeting as she passed. Jorleif bowed to her, frowning, while Ralof and Hadvar stopped with Rikke, unsure of what to do. Rikke quietly asked, "Where are Jarl Ulfric and Galmar?"

"Down in the barracks, sparring. Is ah…"

Rikke put her arm around Hadvar's shoulders and said, "This is Hadvar of Riverwood. He is the other fine young man that helped our Queen out of Helgen."

"Riverwood? So you two lads grew up together, yeah?"

"Yes," they both stated flatly.

"Uh huh." Jorleif already knew the story. He also knew that no one was going to tolerate any problems between them either, least of all the Queen. Well, it wasn't as if Hadvar was still in the Legion, and Rikke was all right. They were all Nords, and that was what mattered in the end. "Well lad, we'll see if we can squeeze you in somewhere. Bit short on space right now. Might need to move some folks around."

Ralof nibbled at his bottom lip then begrudgingly offered, "He can stay in my room." Hadvar didn't react other than to blink and lift his head slightly. "You can just…shove another bed in there or something. There's space."

Jorleif looked at Rikke, who shrugged in unconcern, then he asked Hadvar, "You all right with that, lad?"

Hadvar took a deep breath then nodded and quietly said, "Aye. Eh…thank you." He recognized a peace offering when he saw one. He wasn't about to be the one to make this hard. But by the Divines it was going to be awkward, more awkward than being on the road had been. While traveling they had always been moving, always been busy. With Rikke and Bryn there they hadn't had to really talk to each other at all. There was going to be no avoiding that when sharing close quarters.

"All right, come on then," Ralof muttered. "I'll show you around."

Hadvar hesitated, and when Rikke gave him a squeeze of encouragement then let go he nodded and sighed then followed after the blonde. Once they were out of earshot Jorleif said dryly, "Well, isn't that cute."

"It's promising," Rikke agreed. She and Bryn both had been fairly certain that with enough time the two young men would start mending fences. She looked around and saw they were alone other than the usual guards by the doors. "I'm going to go have a chat with Ulfric and Galmar. Delay the Queen if you could? For just a few minutes?"

The steward grimaced. "All right, but you owe me a crate of Honningbrew if she gets pissed off." Hopefully she just wouldn't come back down. It was obvious she was in a foul mood. She had written a week ago about Hadvar, but nothing had seemed to be amiss. Ulfric had summarized the letter and hadn't seemed troubled by it. Galmar had been rather pleased, for reasons that would probably make Rikke rather annoyed. Obviously something had happened since they left Solitude that had the Queen angry or upset. That she hadn't immediately asked where Ulfric was…well, it couldn't be good.

"Deal."

She made her way to the barracks, hearing the familiar, comforting sounds of soldiers training…the dull thuds of wood and leather practice weapons and shields, grunts of exertion and shouts of encouragement. When she got there she saw the center of the room had been cleared out and Galmar was there guarding against a redheaded female soldier who looked to be in her mid-thirties and experienced. She circled the housecarl with a grin on her face, wearing a short-sleeved tunic and light pants in the warm room. Rikke noticed uncomfortably that Galmar had no shirt on, his muscled back covered in a sheen of sweat. By Talos, the man had big arms, and contrary to his joking comment at Ulfric and Bryn's wedding he was not fat in the least; he was a bit softer around the middle than a young man, but the muscles under his skin still rolled when he moved.

"Rikke." She started at the voice nearby, and when she blinked Ulfric laughed quietly and said, "That was the second time I said your name. A bit preoccupied, are we?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she stated evenly, keeping her cheeks cool with an effort, nearly impossible in the warm room. Ulfric's shirt was soaked with sweat from sparring; he refused to take his shirt off in front of anyone but Bryn or Galmar. Galmar had the usual scars anyone would expect of a seasoned warrior, and wore them proudly. The two older men practiced frequently with their soldiers, well aware of the need to keep up their skills no matter their age, and both were more than able to hold their own.

"All right, we'll play it your way then. Where is my wife?" It bothered him that Rikke was down here and not Bryn. Bryn was always eager to greet him when she first arrived home, always seeking him out first thing.

"Upstairs in your quarters. Changing, I assume. I ah…need to talk to you about her. Now, before she comes down. If she even does." Ulfric frowned deeply then turned and walked away to the doorway, out of earshot, and when he turned back to her and folded his arms she said, "You got the letter, I assume. We took the moth priest back to Fort Dawnguard, and he read the Sun Scroll. He said we need two more: a Blood Scroll and the Dragon Scroll that Bryn got rid of in Winterhold. The problem is…the priest looks like he's going to lose his vision. Bryn…she's probably going to have to read the Scrolls in his place. The last couple days she hasn't been herself, and she's been sleeping poorly. _Zu'u los daniik. Fin Kelle, daniik._ She said that the first night in her sleep but not since. I made a point of remembering. It sounded like dragon tongue."

Ulfric nodded slightly, his jaw clenched. "I'm doomed. The scrolls, doomed."

Rikke said in a tone of worry, "I've never seen her afraid before, never for herself, but when that priest walked away…she was terrified. She said that the one time she read an Elder Scroll, up on the Throat of the World, that she temporarily lost her vision and her mind afterward. She fears it happening again, permanently this time. I told her that I doubted it would be permanent, that her nature would probably protect her against it, and that seemed to help a bit, but she's hardly said a word the entire way home, and when we got here she just went upstairs without a word to anyone." Ulfric's scowl deepened, not a flattering look on him, then he turned and walked down the stairs with a determined stride. Rikke sighed, unable to help being worried, and when she looked back to the center of the room she saw Galmar watching, wiping his face with his shirt. He started over and she had to resist following Ulfric out of the room, knowing it couldn't possibly look good if she did. But by Dibella, Galmar certainly looked good. The trail of graying hair going down his stomach into the front of his pants was a definite distraction. Great Divines, the man was built! She'd had no idea at all.

"What's the matter?" Galmar quietly asked, not about to flirt with the woman right now when something was obviously wrong. He hadn't missed her reluctantly appreciative gaze though. No he had not. In fact she was doing her best to not look at him at all now that he was close.

"The Queen isn't herself. We ran into a…complication."

"Another one? What the hell?"

Rikke shook her head and said, "This entire thing hasn't at all panned out the way any of us expected. We figured we'd find the cause of the problem, Brynhilde would go in and destroy everything, and we'd be done." Galmar motioned with his head and she followed him out into the stairwell, not minding since the guards were taking too much of an interest.

He stopped at the base of the stairs and asked, "So what went wrong? Is the new lad not working out?"

"No no, he's perfectly fine. He and Ralof are sorting things out, and the Queen likes him a great deal. He's a bit older and more seasoned than Ralof, and he has a good head on his shoulders." She lowered her voice further and added, "And hopefully Ulfric won't find him any sort of threat, like he did Ralof."

Galmar admitted, "He did seem relieved to read that. Not that Ralof is any kind of threat either, but I suppose that's beside the point. So what is the problem?"

"The Queen is going to have to read more Elder Scrolls in the priest's place, and she's scared to death." Galmar frowned at that, seeming to find it hard to believe. "She thinks she's going to go blind and mad. Personally, I don't, but she's been stewing over it for the last two days, and sleeping poorly. She's going to be here for a little over a week this time so I hope Ulfric can calm her down and they can spend some time together. It isn't good for newlyweds to be apart this much. Maybe with two youngsters on her tail and no old woman holding her back, Brynhilde can get this business wrapped up a bit more quickly."

He smiled and said, "Come on, Rikke. No old woman fills out a set of armor like that." Rikke's eyes narrowed, still not looking at him, and when she started to move away he gently caught her arm, making her pull away and glare at him. Time to lay the cards on the table, because he was sick and tired of pussyfooting around. "What the hell is the problem?" he growled. "What did I do?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're still…punishing me, or whatever it is you're doing."

"I don't want to talk about it, Galmar."

"That isn't like you."

"What do you know?" she retorted, feeling a twinge of guilt at the hurt look that crossed his face.

"If I knew you didn't want me I would let it go, but I'm not blind or stupid, damn you!" She made a sound of shock then looked away, her cheeks pink. She didn't deny it though. "Fine, maybe I don't know you at all, and maybe that's just how you want it, eh? Are you going to spend the rest of your life here always holding yourself apart, living off that stiff Imperial pride of yours? What the hell do you think I'm after, anyway? Do you think I'm trying to trick you or something?" Rikke didn't answer, her expression tense and hard to read. "All I wanted was your company, as much or as little you wanted to give of it. No children can come of it at our age, so I thought we could ease each other's loneliness once in a while, but since you came here you've acted like my interest offends you, like I'm… distasteful to you or something."

A lump in her throat, Rikke whispered, "You're…not distasteful." Here she was wounding him again, without ever intending to. Well, it wasn't as if she had known. She had completely misjudged the situation. She didn't often make tactical errors, but she seemed to keep making them with Galmar.

"So what is it then?"

Her cheeks warm, she hesitated then said, "I…thought…ugh." Galmar waited, leaning against the stone wall, and she demanded, "Would you put your damn shirt back on!"

He smirked at her and flexed his arms, saying, "What's the matter, Rikke? My manliness is distracting you, eh?" She made a sound between a laugh and annoyance, pinching the bridge of her nose as she shook her head. "Fine, fine." He pulled the damp, smelly shirt over his head then leaned back against the wall again and folded his arms. "So?"

"It's complicated."

"I'm not an idiot, woman. Try me."

She tapped her fingers on the hilt of her sword, one of fire-enchanted ebony from Proudspire Manor's much-diminished armory. "Well, at first…yes, it was my Imperial pride. I didn't want to…I didn't want it to get out that…that I had gone over that quickly and easily."

Galmar said with a frown, "What, to the other side? To the enemy, is that what you're saying?"

"Yes." He sputtered and shook his head, looking away from her, clearly offended. "I know it was wrong. I know there are no more sides, but…it's a hard feeling to get over, even if at times I ah, sympathized. With your cause. I always worshiped Talos, in private, and I understood why Ulfric was doing what he did. I think Tullius sensed that, and I didn't want to confirm his suspicions. I didn't want it to look like I was jumping ship at the first opportunity." He opened his mouth to say something and she quickly said, "I know that isn't how it actually would have been, but that was how it felt at the time. I didn't feel I could just…do it. The Queen, the Dragonborn, she can do whatever the hell she wants, being with Ulfric, and who is going to gainsay it?"

"And you're the Queen's right hand, and you don't answer to Tullius anymore."

"I know that, but…I didn't want to disappoint him." Galmar rolled his eyes. "After that, it was just easier to avoid the issue. I was never here for long, so it didn't matter."

Galmar snorted and said, "Well Rikke, you had better find something to keep you busy now." She was going to be here permanently, taking care of the High Queen's business. Ulfric and Galmar both thought it a very good idea, seeing how stressed Jorleif was, and how tired Rikke had been the last time she was in Windhelm. He stood away from the wall, saying in a tone of regret, "You win. I'll leave you alone from now on. I suppose I should be glad it wasn't something about me."

"Galmar," she sighed. He stopped, turning to look at her, a guarded expression on his face. She grimaced, hating having to say this, but she wanted the air clear between them, especially now that she was staying. She rubbed her nose and looked away, saying haltingly, "I…do, uh, find you attractive. But, I…well, I've spent the last thirty-five years sleeping around, playing the field. That's the other reason I didn't respond. I was afraid it would start out fooling around then I would grow attached and…I'm at the point of my life where I want someone comfortable to grow old with. Something for keeps." Galmar's eyebrows rose as his mouth fell open slightly, then he cleared his throat and looked away, a bemused expression on his face. "You were with Eldi for nearly twenty-five years, and lost her just a few years ago. I understand why you don't want anything permanent. Nothing can replace her."

"That is true," he murmured. "Replacing her, that is." A distant rumble sounded from the other side of the palace, startling them both. "Ah shit. That isn't good." He'd heard enough to know it was anger. The Queen's bedroom sounds didn't carry any farther than their wing of the Palace, thank Dibella.

"No, it isn't." She shrugged and started for the door, passing Galmar. "But then maybe it is. If she's yelling at least she's opening up, and I'm sure he can hold his own just fine." Ulfric was probably the one man who could handle her anger without being afraid of her.

"Rikke…" She stopped at the turn in the hall, and the way the shadows from the nearby sconce hit her face made it look a good ten years younger. Ah, but she was a lovely woman, in an entirely different way than his Eldi. He could still see the great beauty that Rikke had been when she was young and the men couldn't stay away from her. Even he had succumbed to her charms, once, early in their acquaintance, when they were barely more than kids, just a distant memory that had no bearing on the here and now. "I ah…eh. What if…hm."

"Yes Galmar?" she asked patiently. He bit his lip and scratched at his ribs, and he looked so much like an old gray bear it made her bite back a laugh.

"Ah, Rikke," he murmured, seeing those dimples that were no doubt half the reason she had never wanted for partners. "I said I wanted your company, didn't I? As little or as much as you wanted. I never thought you wanted any more than that." She blinked, taken aback, then her expression grew wary. "Yeah, I was married a long time. I wish it had been longer. And I do miss her, every day, and I'm not looking to replace her. But…I got used to it. Always having someone there. I wasn't looking to just fool around, but I figured I would take what I could get." Her expression softened, disbelieving. He cleared his throat again, not exactly used to this sort of thing. Not anymore. "Don't write me off, Rikke. I don't want to grow old alone either."

Rikke stared at him for a moment, at the earnestness in his expression, and the sad loneliness, the kind that only someone who had lost a spouse could ever know. She certainly couldn't imagine what it was like. "Oh Galmar," she whispered, feeling the rare sting of tears in her eyes. He moved a little closer to her, uncertain, testing, and she reached out before she let herself think about it and change her mind. She took a handful of his shirt and pulled him close, making him chuckle in relief and put his hands on her waist.

"I like a woman who knows what she wants." She smiled hesitantly at him and he chuckled again and leaned in for a kiss, barely more than the light touch of lips. It sent a pang of grief through him, and even a little guilt. She searched his eyes, worried, and he admitted in a rough voice, "I haven't been with anyone but Eldi since I was Ralof's age. It…will take some getting used to." Rikke made a sound of sympathy, laying her gloved hand on his cheek, and he took it and held it in his, finding the feel of leather and steel odd and intriguing. No, Rikke was nothing at all like Eldi. Rikke was tall, blond, fit, a warrior; Eldi had been brown-haired, short and pleasantly plump and soft, extremely feminine. He was glad they were nothing alike. The less alike the better.

"_I SAID I DON'T WANT YOU TO!"_

The roar shook the Palace, the stones beneath their feet trembling, and Galmar breathed, "Shiiiiit! What in Oblivion are they fighting about?"

"By Talos, I'm not sure I want to know," she said with worry. "But it was just a matter of time. They both have…hm, strong personalities." And poor Ralof and Hadvar were getting it at close range.

"Well Ulfric better calm her down before the ceiling comes down on our heads." They heard the sound of booted feet coming their direction from the hall outside, and Galmar grumbled and pecked Rikke's cheek then let go of her hand. Two guards came bursting through the door, dusted with snow, looking frantic.

One said, "Sir, the shouting…we can hear it outside."

"And so can everyone else," the female guard added.

"Yeah, so?" Galmar retorted. "Next time the Cruel-Seas have a lover's quarrel, you gonna come tell me about it?"

The first guard said in a halting tone, "But…er…oh."

Rikke stated, "The Queen is loud. We all know she's loud. Right now she's upset, and that makes her even louder, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," the two guards murmured.

"Off with you," Galmar ordered, and the two looked at each other in embarrassment and left the way they came. He sighed and offered Rikke his arm, and she beamed at him and took it. When he felt her give his bicep a gentle squeeze he laughed and flexed his arm again. "You like that, eh?"

"It's quite nice, I must admit."

"I can still put the young ones through their paces, same as Ulfric."

"Let's hope Ulfric can deal with the young one he has on his hands right now."

* * *

As the thunder died away Ulfric slowly lowered his hands from his ears, his eyes wide with barely controlled fury. Only the knowledge that his wife was lashing out in fear was tempering it at all. "You…_dare_ to shout at me like that?" he seethed. "What the fuck are you trying to do, shatter my eardrums? Bring the Palace down? You will calm yourself or by all the Nine Divines I'm going to take you over my knee!" he yelled. Bryn recoiled, blinking as she breathed heavily. Ulfric repeated, "I am going to be with you when you read those damned Scrolls, do you hear me? When you have them all you're going to come back here and get me."

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" she said through gritted teeth.

"I am your husband! Don't you try to pull rank on me, damn you. Not here in our marital chambers, in our private quarters. I won't tolerate it!"

"Oh really. What do you plan on doing about it?" His jaw clenched as his expression grew even more furious, if that was possible, his hands tightening into fists. "What, are you going to hit me? Shout me into the wall?"

"You would like that, wouldn't you? I almost think you want me to do it, you little… Ugh, no, I will not give you the satisfaction, no matter how much I think you need some sense smacked into you." He would never raise his hand to a woman like that, any more than his father ever had, and it didn't matter one bit that she was stronger than him. He wasn't about to call her names either, even if she was acting like a little bitch. Gods how he wanted to though. He had no idea what to do with her. This was their first real fight as a married couple and he detested it. The only comfort he had was that he was the one man in Skyrim other than the Greybeards who could halfway control her; if worse came to worst he could Shout her down with all three words of Unrelenting Force and truss her up and shove a gag in her mouth before she could collect herself. Even she wasn't immune to that. "Promise me you will come back here when you have the other two Scrolls," he demanded.

"No. There's no point in you being there."

Seeing her anger was finally starting to falter, Ulfric countered, "There are a number of reasons for me to be there. The simple fact that I want to be there should be enough for you, but since it apparently is not, I should be there because if you really do go mad I'm the only person in Skyrim who can deal with you, because of my _thu'um._" Bryn looked shocked at that, and when she took in a shuddering breath and looked away from him he felt his anger start to subside as well. "I don't for one moment think that you'll go mad. You are Dragonborn, a creation of Akatosh. Your nature will not allow you to go mad. You didn't even truly go mad before. You were exhausted and stressed, that is all. Once you rested you recovered." Bryn frowned and turned away, and he prompted, "Is that not true?"

"Yes, in that when I rested I recovered." She pulled the circlet off her head and tossed it onto the table, her head aching. She massaged her temples and cast a healing spell, hearing Ulfric take in a sharp breath then slowly let it out.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I did go mad, but not very much, and it went away when I slept." She poured water into the washing bowl and dipped a washcloth into it, and as she wiped her face she muttered, "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I shouldn't have done that." It actually could have damaged his hearing or hurt him somehow. She never would have forgiven herself for that.

Ulfric sighed, "Ah, precious…" He went to her and put his arms around her waist from behind and leaned his head against hers. They were both a bit sweaty and smelly, but not enough to be a deterrent. He kissed her neck and murmured against it, "I will be there when you read the Scrolls."

"All right." She felt him let out a breath of relief and kiss her neck again as he held her tightly. His damp shirt was cold against her back, but she didn't mind.

"Let me take care of you, if only that much." Bryn nodded. "How long are you staying?"

"A week."

"Good." He took the washcloth from her and threw it on the table. "We'll save that for later."

"Oh?" Ulfric's hand slid down the front of her underclothes, making her sigh and back up against him. The other hand came up to knead her breast as he nibbled at her ear, a growing hardness against her backside.

He murmured, "It's good to know I can tame my _rekdovah,_ hm?"

"Oh yes, do that…"

The breathy, submissive reply sent a shiver of shocked lust through him that left him confused and speechless for a few seconds. He licked his lips then reached up and wound his fingers in her hair and felt her move against him. He gave her hair a gentle, experimental pull and was surprised when she whimpered and thrust herself against his hand. This wasn't at all what he had expected to do it for her, but he wasn't about to overthink it, and it was something she was probably rarely in the mood for. They had been together such a short time that there were doubtless a number of things like this that they didn't yet know about each other. Maybe she felt at the moment that she really did need taming. It wasn't really his thing, normally, but it was damned exciting right now.

He directed her over to the bed and pushed her face down onto it then pulled her underclothes down and off, and the sight of her toned backside in front of him nearly made him lose reason. He impulsively pulled her hands behind her back and wound the flimsy cloth around them, knowing she could easily pull her hands free, and she whimpered and spread her legs, going up on her tiptoes. He slid his fingers inside her as he leaned over and nipped at her back, making her shudder beneath him. He fingered and rubbed her until she climaxed with cries that were muffled in the blankets, and when he got behind her and slowly entered her he grabbed another fistful of hair and tugged her head back. She responded with a long moan, pushing back against him, and the sudden surge of aggression it sent through him made him growl in response and move faster, ignoring the uneasiness the entire thing was causing in him. His wife wanted it this way, and he had to focus on that and that alone.

"Hit me!"

Ulfric's breath caught in bewilderment, and when she demanded it again he found himself giving her a stinging slap on the backside that made her cry out and buck her hips. He gave her another one, harder, making her squeal in delight. He thrust into her as hard as he could, her screams ringing in his ears, and all too soon he climaxed so hard it made him shout in surprise. He let go of her hair and pulled her hands free then collapsed onto her, shivering as echoes of pleasure went through him. Bryn made a warm sound of happiness and writhed under him, and he bit her shoulder and growled, "Damn dirty girl..." He wasn't altogether comfortable with it, but it had been damn hot, that was for certain, and his wife had certainly enjoyed it. He kissed by her ear then whispered into it, "I love you."

"I love you more, _kodaavi."_

He sat up on one elbow enough to take some of his weight off her and rub her backside as he said, "I think that's going to leave a mark for a little while." There was a very distinct red handprint there that he wasn't at all happy about.

"Mmm, good." She heard him huff as he pulled out of her and yanked up his pants to lay on his side next to her, and when she saw the deeply troubled look on his face she sighed and said, "Darling, don't. I loved it, all of it. It was just a mood I was in. It doesn't make you mean or a bad person for enjoying it."

"I know that." The sullen mutter made her sigh again and roll to her side to face him. She leaned close and gave him a kiss, her first since coming home. He grumbled and ran his hand down her flank to her hip. "So tell me more about what you did while you were away."

Seeing he didn't want to talk anymore about what they had just done, Bryn said, "Rikke and I met with Tullius and Commander Maro. It looks like the Emperor is going to be visiting Skyrim soon. He wants to meet me."

"Wonderful," he said in a snide tone.

"I told them that I don't want him touring my country. Our country. They didn't take well to that, but they understood why. He'll stay in Solitude and I'll go there."

He grumbled, "I knew the day would come that he would want to meet you. It would be remiss of him to not inspect his new weapon."

"I'm glad he decided to inspect it here and not call me to the Imperial City."

"Yes, I suppose," he admitted. It would be all too easy for the Emperor to just keep her there if that happened. Not that she could be kept there for long.

"Tullius brought up the Stormcloaks who aren't disbanding. They've been noticed." Ulfric grunted and nodded, his brow furrowed. "I told Tullius to leave them alone until I get the vampire problem resolved. If they don't go home by then I'm going to get up in the air on Odahviing and scout out their encampments and strongly encourage them to disperse. Hopefully they will go home before that."

"They had better. It does not speak well of them that they're ignoring orders." It made him wonder what their objective was. It made them look little better than common bandits, and it was an embarrassment to him that such folk had fought under his banner. If the commanders couldn't ferret out those remaining groups and get them to go home, the Dragonborn would be within her rights to scatter them however she saw fit. Ulfric knew she didn't want it to come to that. No one did, even Tullius.

Bryn went on, "Rikke, Ralof and I stopped in Helgen, after passing through Whiterun." Ulfric's lips pursed as he nodded. He knew she had been back there several times. "Ralof found it upsetting, but I think it was good for him to go back there and see it. We took out a group of bandits while we were there. Rikke and I came to the conclusion that the town should be rebuilt, and Tullius was in full agreement. I wrote a letter to Dengeir telling him that work would start soon and to not be alarmed by it."

He conceded, "It's in a strategic spot. It should be rebuilt. I can only hope Dengeir doesn't choose to be alarmed anyway." He paused then said, "Word has gotten around that you paid Skyrim's taxes out of your own pocket." She made a sound of assent, unconcerned. "That…hm, it was generous, very generous, and the people will love you for it. But I would be careful about that. It wouldn't do to let the Jarls think that you will continue to do that, while they hold onto their own wealth. While I don't like the idea of paying tribute, I do understand that it serves a purpose. The Empire is the first line of defense against the Dominion, and the Legion doesn't pay for itself."

"It was the one and only time I'll be doing it, believe me. That was a lot of loot for even me to come up with on the spot."

"Good. Did you get all the masks together?"

"Ah, yes," she said in surprise, having forgotten all about it. She slid off the bed, grabbing up her underpants and pulling them on to catch the seed leaking out of her. She desperately needed a bath, but that could wait for a bit. She went to her pack and dug around in it then held up a golden mask. It was slightly different in style than the others, but the two tusks were the biggest change. The hood attached to it was black and gold, instead of brown and gray. _"Konahrik,"_ she stated.

Ulfric thought for a moment then nodded slowly, feeling goose bumps rise on his skin as he murmured, "Warlord." She brought it to him, and he was surprised by the weight of it. "This is solid gold," he said in amazement. He couldn't imagine the outrageous value of the thing.

"I was able to temper it, but I haven't worn it yet other than briefly putting it on when I got it. The enchantment only kicks in when the wearer is very low on health. I'm saving it for the war."

"It seems fitting." He hesitated then held the mask up to his face, curious, and when he felt the tingle of magic he quickly took it off and handed it back to her, unsettled. "What did you do with the other masks?"

"I left them in Bromjunaar Sanctuary. They're safe there. I still have the wooden mask, and no one can get in there without it." She took Konahrik to one of the wardrobes and set it on the highest shelf, out of sight. She had no need of it until it came time to battle the Aldmeri Dominion. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken so much damage that it would have helped. Maybe when she fought Alduin on the mountain. Yes, it certainly would have helped then.

"Were you able to see your friends while you were in Whiterun?"

"Yes. Lydia is doing well."

The short answer was telling. He got off the bed and went to the water bowl to clean off, and as he pulled his shirt off he asked, "Did you see Vilkas?" There was no point dancing around the issue. She made a scoffing sound as she looked for a clean dress to wear, but she didn't say no. "Was it awkward?"

"Yes it was, and he made it that way," she said in hurt irritation. "Bowing to me and not looking me in the eye, in Lydia and Farkas' house no less. Like I'm going to…to behead him or something if he doesn't pay obeisance to me. It was offensive. I asked him if that was really necessary and he just nodded. He wouldn't say a word to me. I left Breezehome right after that to have dinner with Jarl Balgruuf."

"Is he still fucking his housecarl?"

Bryn burst into laughter at the blunt question. "Well, once you start I imagine it's hard to stop." Ulfric laughed and slid his boots off. "It didn't show, and I didn't get the chance to speak privately with him about how things are going. He seemed happy though. Less stressed. His children seem a little less bratty than usual too. I stopped by Jorrvaskr on the way up to Dragonsreach and said hello to everyone, since Vilkas was staying at Breezehome for dinner. Everything seems to be going well, but Tilma…she's so very frail. I don't think she's long for this world. I know it's the way of things, and the hall is in good hands with Lydia and Aerin, but I'll be sad to see her go." Visiting Jorrvaskr always made Bryn a bit sad. It had felt like home, since the day she had set foot in it. Maybe it was just the people there who made it feel that way. Regardless she missed it. Some days she wished… Well, it was pointless. She was Dragonborn and the High Queen of Skyrim, and there was no going back.

"It was like that when my nanny passed away. I made sure she was cared for to the end, and I thought it would never be the same around here without her. And it wasn't, but in time you get used to it."

"I suppose. Aela and Mjoll are getting married soon, in Riften. Another month or so, once Skjorta is a little older and heartier. I told them I would go to the wedding."

"_We_ will go to the wedding."

"Yes, sorry, that's what I meant."

Ulfric didn't reply to that, knowing she was mostly telling the truth. She had been gone for so much of their marriage so far that it simply didn't occur to her that married couples fulfilled that sort of social obligation together, just as it hadn't occurred to her that he would want to be there for her when she read the Elder Scrolls. At least she wasn't putting up a fight about him going to the wedding. He was going to be right there next to her, holding her hand, as her husband. The thought of her sitting there by herself in the Temple of Mara with Vilkas most likely nearby, the two of them thinking about each other, was intolerable to him. They would do so even if he was there, but at least with him there they wouldn't be casting any longing glances at each other.

He was clearly going to have to be more assertive with her from here on out. She was so unused to the idea of having to compromise with another person that she simply did what she wanted and expected everyone else to fall in line, including him. He was going to be there when she read the Scrolls, and he was going to be at the wedding with her, and he would be present when she went to Solitude to meet with the Emperor, as her consort. He was fine with the knowledge that Titus Mede II would want to speak privately to her, but he was going to be right there the rest of the time. Sitting here in Windhelm while she was off doing gods knew what was necessary much of the time, but not all the time.


	43. Chapter 43

"By the Nine Divines," Hadvar breathed as Bryn stepped out of the boat with Serana's help. The vampire girl seemed much more solicitous of the Queen than before, looking at her with concern as Bryn leaned on her arm. The Queen's skin had a frightening gray pallor and there were purplish circles under her eyes. They had been on the island for a day and a half, during which time Ralof and Hadvar had entertained themselves by cleaning bandits out of the nearby Northwatch Keep and poking around for whatever treasure Bryn had left behind long ago when she had rescued Thorald Gray-Mane. The forced time alone had gone a long way towards loosening things up between them, beyond their sharing of a room in Windhelm. They weren't buddies at this point by any means, but most of the resentment was gone.

Ralof hurried to take Bryn's other arm and asked with worry, "What happened, my lady? Did vampires attack you?"

"No, vampires would have been preferable," she said in a rough voice. "I've just been to Oblivion and back." She didn't know how the Hero of Kvatch had tolerated it. Granted, the plane of Oblivion he had accessed while closing all those Gates had been completely different, but it was still no place for a living, breathing being. Bryn would rather fight dragons any day.

The two young men looked at each other, and Serana added, "Literally Oblivion. A plane of it, anyway." She moved out of the way as Hadvar came to take the Queen's other arm. As they led her toward the Keep, she followed, saying with anxiety, "It's a place of the dead. I…I had to, well, make her a little dead to—"

"A _little_ dead!" Hadvar and Ralof exclaimed at once. Ralof growled, "How the hell do you make someone a little…Ugh, never mind, is it reversible? Will she get better?"

"I thought she would be better by now. She has her whole soul back." That Bryn had come out of the Cairn looking like that worried Serana to death, figuratively speaking. The Dragonborn was the only one who could put an end to all this, and put an end to Harkon. But more than that…in the Soul Cairn Bryn had started treating Serana like a person. They had gotten lost several times, the place hard to navigate, and so they had had plenty of time to talk. Serana had found herself getting drawn into conversation with the Queen, who was willing to tell Serana all about her own past, things that Serana had found intriguing but confusing, and she had found herself responding. Not a lot, but just listening had been…nice. She supposed. She wasn't used to anything…nice.

Ralof angrily said, "You should have let us come with you."

"I couldn't!" Serana protested. "The more people with us, the greater the chance of my father sensing something amiss. And there was no way to take you into the Soul Cairn with us. I couldn't make all of you, well…"

"A little dead," Hadvar muttered. "Got it." He put his arm around Bryn's waist and said to her, "Ralof and I cleaned out the Keep, my lady. We'll go inside and get you warm and some food into you, then you can sleep."

"That sounds good," Bryn whispered.

"And you have the Blood Scroll, my lady?" She nodded. "We'll head to the College after this for the last scroll then go to Windhelm and get Jarl Ulfric, but let's get you recovered first." Ulfric would not be happy at all to see her like this. He had taken both young men aside together mid-way through last week and impressed on them that under no circumstances were they to let Bryn read the Elder Scrolls without him there. It had been an uncomfortable conversation, and once it was over Ulfric had eyed Hadvar as if considering saying more to him, about gods knew what, then he had seemed to think better of it and walked away, much to Hadvar's relief. The Jarl and Galmar had been distantly polite to him and hadn't made things awkward, though most of the guards eyed him with either coldness or resentment, knowing who he was. Well, that was their problem. He didn't have to work with them. The Jarl seemed to trust him, and the Queen definitely did, even Ralof did, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

Hearing a muffled sound of apprehension from Ralof, Bryn said to him, "You can stay here in town if you want. Really. I won't think any less of you for it."

He stared up at the College of Winterhold, his skin crawling, and he admitted, "Maybe that would be for the best, my Queen. I don't want to embarrass you." He just knew that he would react to something before he could stop himself and look like a fool. He could see cold beams of light shooting up from the place, and gods only knew what they were. The whole place also looked ready to topple over, perched on a column of rock that didn't look nearly sturdy enough to hold an entire compound like that.

"It's all right," she assured him, putting her hand on his arm. "Go to the Frozen Hearth and have a drink, but I warn you, an Altmer wizard lives there. There's no getting away from magic here."

He grimaced and replied, "Yes, my lady." He could ignore a single mage better than a whole keep full of them. He looked at Hadvar, who kept a neutral expression on his face. He knew very well that the other man had no problem with magic and had fought side by side with battlemages and spellswords. Ralof supposed he would have to get used to it, if there was war in their future. The Queen had also made it clear that the ancient Nords had not disdained magic and that there had been many mages in Sovngarde. She had also told him that she had the ability to become a mage herself and hadn't simply because she hadn't yet needed to, that the option to do so someday was still on the table, and had reminded him that she was half-Altmer. He knew all that, but feeling comfortable with it was something else entirely.

Bryn smiled at him then headed for the entrance to the College walkway, Hadvar at her side. She was pleased to see that the damaged buildings in town had been torn down and the rubble cleared away, and a rudimentary set of stairs was in the process of being set into the hillside down to the water. She was spending the night as a guest of Jarl Korir and would commend him on the progress. She was sure he had grumbled about it the entire time, but most of the coin wasn't coming out of his pocket, the rebuilding of Winterhold being funded by Bryn and the College equally as a goodwill gesture.

As they went up the walkway Hadvar said, "This will be…interesting, my lady."

She laughed and replied, "Never thought you would come here, I imagine."

"Never had reason to."

"I actually like it a great deal at the College. I think in another life I would have liked to become a mage, if for no other reason than to prove my aunt and grandmother wrong. Auntie wasn't particularly gifted, not like my father supposedly was, and she was a terrible teacher. I found it so easy to learn here. Having good teachers makes all the difference."

"There's no reason you can't pursue learning more, my lady."

"Oh, there's a very good reason. The one I'm married to."

"Oh." He hesitated then added in a sly tone, "Any reason he would even have to know?" She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling. He said innocently, "Being exposed to it a bit more might make Ralof relax, my lady, and I think at this point he isn't likely to go running to the Jarl or Galmar to tattle on you. Also, we _are_ going to war against Elves. Magic users."

"You make a compelling case." As they came to the narrow, broken section of walkway she muttered, "They really need to fix this."

"It's ah, a bit…eh…" Hadvar trailed off, feeling his balls tighten up practically inside his body as he looked hundreds of feet down to the thrashing sea and jagged rocks below. "Kynareth preserve me," he whispered in fear, sweat breaking out over every inch of his body. He hadn't really imagined that he was afraid of heights before this, but then this would frighten anyone. He felt Bryn's hand slip into his and he looked at her gratefully, his face warm. She slowly led him through the area as he kept his eyes on the stones in front of his feet, trying not to see anything other than that. She kept hold of his hand until they were up the slope and into an enclosed area, and he let out a shaky breath of relief as she let go. "Thank you, my lady," he murmured. "But I'm not at all looking forward to going back down."

"We'll worry about it then."

They entered the courtyard and Hadvar let out a whispered, "Wow…" The Arch-Mage's tower rose behind a statue of a mage, in front of which was a pool of light that set his hair on end.

"Shalidor," Bryn explained. "Some say he founded the College and was one of the most powerful mages who ever lived." As they headed toward the main building Bryn said, "I hope Urag is willing to sell back the Scroll. He can be a bit gruff."

"He wouldn't be an Orc otherwise." She laughed slightly at that. They went inside and Hadvar was grateful to be out of the cold, though he could hear/feel a faint humming that sang along his nerves, making him shiver. He heard a crackling sound coming from the hall in front of them as the room lit up in white, and Bryn made a sound of interest and headed that direction.

"This is the Hall of The Elements," she explained. "The lectures and most practicing takes place here. It's close to lunchtime though, so I'm not sure who…ah!" As they entered the Hall she saw a young Nord mage casting lightning bolts at a target. She whistled to get his attention, and he turned and smiled brightly in surprise.

"Bryn!" he called, hurrying over. He embraced her and added, "Oh, sorry…my Queen. We couldn't believe when we heard! Well, I mean, we did, but…"

"Oh, forget that," she chided. She put her arm around his shoulders and said in introduction, "Hadvar, this is my friend Onmund. We started at the College together with a couple other students."

"Hadvar," Onmund said with a nod and a smile, extending his hand, waiting for the inevitable Nord warrior's discomfort, but when the other man easily took it his smile broadened. Well of course he wasn't uneasy around mages, being a former Legionnaire.

Hadvar murmured, "Onmund. Good to meet you." By Dibella, the man had the bluest eyes he had ever seen. He looked a few years younger than Hadvar, and he had a strong grip for a mage, and he was tall and well-built for one too, but then he was a Nord. When Onmund's smile grew warm and he blushed slightly, Hadvar realized he was still slowly shaking his hand. He cleared his throat and let go, feeling his own cheeks grow warm.

Bryn said to her friend, "I'm going down to the Arcanaeum to talk to Urag, then I need to track down Tolfdir. Could you show Hadvar around?"

"I'd be glad to," Onmund replied, hoping it didn't sound as eager to their ears as it did to his. Show Hadvar around…wouldn't he love to do that, though from the looks of him Hadvar had already seen more things than Onmund could ever show him. He hadn't exactly gotten out much, or around much, but he knew who Hadvar was. Everyone with ears had heard who he was lately. He had to be pretty impressive if the Queen's right hand had asked for him personally for the Queen's service.

The Queen smiled innocently and headed to one of the side doors, and Hadvar couldn't help a soft laugh to himself. She certainly didn't miss a thing. Hadvar shifted his helmet under his other arm and looked around, saying, "I never thought I would ever have reason to see this place. It's impressive."

"I suppose it is. I'm so used to it now I forget how it looked to me when I came here. Wide-eyed and fresh off the farm, everything looked so big, so amazing. Not that it still isn't, but, you know what they say about familiarity."

"To me, familiarity has always bred comfort, not contempt." He sighed and added, "There hasn't been a lot of familiarity for me lately. You get used to things being a certain way in the Legion, you know?"

"Not really." Hadvar laughed and nodded. "I think that's why I like it here so much. It's become like a family. A couple of the members are like that cousin you wish would get stomped into mush by a giant, but on the whole we really look out for each other here."

"That is a lot like the Legion. I think that's what I miss the most about it."

Onmund motioned for him to follow and they went out the front doors. A cold blast of wind knocked the breath out of them, and Onmund said, "I've only heard bits and pieces. We get kind of isolated up here. They say you helped Bryn, uh, the Queen, out of Helgen?"

Hadvar shook his head and said, "She helped me every bit as much, believe me. It…" He shook his head again as they passed the statue. "It was a hard time. Had nightmares for weeks afterwards. But after those few weeks, when I started hearing whispers of a Dragonborn and put it all together…the nightmares stopped. I just knew…everything would be all right."

"Wow," Onmund breathed. "And now you're running around Skyrim after vampires with her. I'm envious. I've learned so much here at the College, but…we don't get out much."

"Do you have a specialty? A certain school you're following?"

"Destruction. Shock and lightning spells, in particular. I liked the idea of becoming a battlemage or spellsword, but I really don't have any skill with weapons, and Talos knows my parents and older brothers tried to drill it into me."

Hadvar shrugged and said without concern, "Everyone's good at different things. If you ask me we need more Nords pursuing the magical arts. You should ask the Queen about her visit to Sovngarde. Tsun himself called magic the clever craft, with respect, and there were mages aplenty there."

"Really."

The hurt, disbelieving tone to Onmund's voice made Hadvar pause and look at him. The younger man looked troubled, angry even. Hadvar asked in concern, "What's wrong?" Onmund sighed and shook his head, and Hadvar put a hand on his shoulder and asked, "Maybe…we could talk it out over dinner at the Frozen Hearth? Tonight? My treat." It was a bit of a risk; sometimes it was hard to tell if he was reading other men's signals correctly. Maybe Onmund's smile and blush had been embarrassment instead of interest. Onmund's eyebrows rose in surprise then a shy smile spread over the other man's face, relieving him.

"I would love that. I can't remember the last time I, ah…well. Winterhold, you know. It's isolated."

Hadvar laughed, "I noticed." He let his hand fall and went on, "The Queen is staying with Jarl Korir. I'm sure she would excuse me for a while, maybe even overnight. My partner can attend her just fine."

"Partner?"

Hearing the sudden wariness in Onmund's voice and seeing it in his eyes, Hadvar shook his head and said, "Oh, no no. _Work_ partner. Partner in the Guard. Sorry, I should've used a different word. Ralof doesn't go that way at all, and even if he did… No." Ralof was a fine-looking man, but too well aware of it, and too overtly masculine for Hadvar's tastes. When they had been younger, in their mid-teens, Hadvar had been interested, and had made the mistake of acting on it, but only once. He thought with regret that maybe that was where their troubles had started. He shivered and motioned toward the small magical well nearby. "Is that warm? It's freezing out here, even for a Nord." Onmund took his arm and led him to the closest door and they went inside, and once they were in there and it seemed quiet Hadvar murmured, "So…no partner-partner in your life?"

Onmund laughed and looked away, his face growing warm. He let his hand fall as he quietly said, "No. There are no men here who like men, and even if any of them were I would never… ugh. The atmosphere here isn't really conducive to that sort of thing, anyway. Kind of…dry. Academic. And we're still not terribly welcome in town, and there's hardly anyone there. And then, well, I came from a really small town. Not even a town, really, in Hjaalmarch. Just a few families, and we were all kind of distantly related to each other." He made a sound of frustration, and seeing the sympathy in Hadvar's gaze he went on, "My father and brothers said I would never get into Sovngarde if I became a mage. That's what I was upset about when you mentioned it. My mother said coming to the College would be a death sentence. I still wonder if she worried I would die, or if she was implying I would be dead to them if I went. I haven't talked to any of them since I left home."

"Ah, hey," Hadvar softly said, giving Onmund's shoulder a gentle shake. "I'm sorry. Most of our people are still so narrow-minded. You were brave to leave home and come here to follow your own path, and I promise you, the Queen says the Hall of Valor was full of mages." Onmund nodded, and Hadvar moved closer to him and stated, "You know, I have to say, you have the bluest eyes I've ever seen."

"Really?" he whispered in surprise. No one had ever told him that before. Plenty of Nords had blue eyes. Hadvar's were blue, but a lighter blue touched with gray. Steel blue, he thought it was called, and it was fitting for a warrior. The other man's nearness in his steel plate armor was rattling his nerves in a pleasant way. He had never been with an experienced warrior, someone so confident and obviously worldly. He hadn't been with much of anyone at all.

"Yes, really. I grew up near Lake Ilinalta, and in the summertime when the sun hits the water just right… even then, not nearly as blue."

"Oh…"

"I'm sorry I threw you for a loop earlier with that mention of a partner. I don't want you to think I'm anything like that. If I was serious about someone I wouldn't go behind his back. I wouldn't go against my own honor."

Onmund nodded briefly and mumbled, "I believe that." He should have known that was the case. The Queen probably wouldn't tolerate anyone at her side who wasn't perfectly honorable in every aspect of his life. He fidgeted and admitted, "I ah, well, about tonight, I'm, well, I should let you know, I'm not really, well…I haven't, um, much…"

Hadvar laughed and gave him another gentle shake. "Ah, you're sweet. No worries, Onmund, really."

His face hot, he said, "It's just that…well, you were in the Legion. You've been all over Tamriel. You've probably seen and done things that…I just really don't think I could…um, measure up to."

"Well, I do have to admit I've been around, I won't lie about that. You can't be in the Legion and not have that happen, but frankly, I like that you haven't been, and I won't be doing any measuring of anything. I'd just like your company and to get to know you better, that's all. We really could just have dinner if you want."

"Oh no," Onmund said with a touch of worry. "Sweet merciful Dibella, don't leave me all…pent up."

Hadvar laughed softly and stroked his cheek. "No worries there. I'll send you home happy, lad, I promise." Onmund stared at him with dilated eyes then nodded, and Hadvar leaned in and kissed his cheek then left it at that. The poor thing was flustered enough as it was. He found the younger man's innocence charming, though he hoped he wasn't completely innocent. At Onmund's age he hoped not, since he looked to be about twenty-four or twenty-five. Surely he had gotten around at least a little bit in that time.

He supposed he would find out later. At this point he just wanted some company, something he hadn't gotten in a few months, something that didn't come along quite as often as it did for Ralof, who had a wider pool of potential partners to fish from. Rikke had talked to Hadvar early on about being discreet in his bedroom matters around the Queen, and had implied that Ralof hadn't been and had gotten a mild talking-to over it. Hadvar knew better than that, had much better control than that. He was glad his orientation wasn't an issue with the Queen, though he hadn't expected it to be. The only difference it had made was in Bryn being more relaxed with him than she was with Ralof, which he appreciated, and which Ralof didn't seem to care about. Ralof still somewhat viewed Bryn as 'Ulfric's wife' more than his Queen. Hadvar didn't operate under that illusion, regardless of Ulfric's demands last week. Hadvar reported to Bryn then Rikke, in that order, and had only agreed to Ulfric's instructions because he knew the Jarl was right, and he knew the Jarl was doing it out of love and concern.

As a sweetly relieved Onmund continued showing him around and introduced him to the other students and some of the instructors, Hadvar couldn't help worrying distractedly about just what was going to happen when Bryn read all three Elder Scrolls. Rikke seemed to think nothing serious would happen; Ralof seemed to be trying not to worry too hard about it, even though it was obvious he was worried; Serana hadn't said anything about it, though to be fair she hadn't had the chance. She had gone straight from Northwatch Keep to Fort Dawnguard, knowing she would not be welcome in either the College of Winterhold or the Palace of Kings. Bryn seemed much more tolerant of her since their ordeal in the Soul Cairn, and Serana much more respectful and solicitous of the Queen, who indeed had been fully recovered in the morning. Hadvar hoped that all she would need to do after the reading was sleep, and that nothing terrible happened before she had the chance to do that. He wasn't at all convinced that there would be no immediate and serious consequences from it. Dragonborn or not, no one could do such a thing, something that to his knowledge had never been attempted before, and come through unscathed.


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who recently added a Favorite/Follow, it's truly appreciated!**

**I wanted to reassure readers that I definitely do respond to every reviewer by PM, but in case anyone was wondering about Wh1spers in the Dark's question, I play on PC and have the game heavily modded. I don't even know what the vanilla game looks like anymore (or god forbid, the vanilla Vilkas/Farkas/Ralof!). I do try to keep the mods I use lore-friendly (and this story as well).**

**This chapter is the one upon which all the rest will turn...**

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The sound of heavy boots coming out of the war room made Bryn turn to look for her husband, and when she saw him she sighed, "Oh, _kodaavi…_ You look splendid. So handsome." He was wearing the ebony armor that Oengul had crafted for him, the helmet tucked under one arm, and he was carrying the Shield of Eastmarch. He was armed with his steel war axe of cowardice, which he refused to part with since it used to be his father's, but he had let her improve it at Oengul's forge, where she had also surreptitiously improved the armor, so as not to hurt the Master Smith's feelings. She had also enchanted the armor to enhance the regeneration of health and stamina, enchanted the gauntlets to enhance one-handed weapon and archery skills, and enchanted the boots to help him resist fire damage and carry extra weight. She didn't really have any other enchantments that were useful for the helmet, not that Ulfric would ever use, so she had applied waterbreathing to it. It was unlikely Ulfric would ever need it, but she couldn't leave just the helmet unenchanted. Wuunferth had watched her the entire time as if she had sprouted an extra head, seeming almost horrified that she could force two enchantments into items. She had offered to teach him how and he had shaken his head vehemently, as if the skill were an abomination. It had actually been rather annoying. The enchanting teacher at the College had been thrilled that the method had finally been worked out, though Sergius didn't have the skill to do it.

Bryn met Ulfric and put her hand on his cheek, and he murmured to her with a smile, "I can't go running around after my beautiful High Queen looking anything less than magnificent." She laughed and kissed him tenderly and he returned it, feeling more than a little excited about heading out on an honest-to-gods adventure with his wife. It would be interesting to see how she operated on the road and how the people reacted to her, and to him with her. It would also be interesting in a morbid way to talk to a vampire. Bryn trusted the creature, even spoke somewhat fondly of it. He supposed if she had relied on Serana in that revolting Soul Cairn it would build some trust and liking. Hearing about the place had been extremely unsettling, and it hadn't been until he had asked for a report directly from Ralof and Hadvar that he had gotten the full extent of it and what it had done to his wife. Their description of her condition afterward had been upsetting but they had both sworn that she had been perfectly fine the next day with seemingly no lingering effects. He wasn't sure how being 'a little dead' couldn't leave permanent damage, but that it hadn't somewhat reassured him that she would handle reading the Scrolls well enough, if she was allowed to sleep it off afterwards. He was going to make sure that she did.

"You sure you've got everything?" Galmar asked, unable to help feeling worried. He didn't like his Jarl and his best friend leaving Windhelm without him, especially on a trip like this. He would be glad for some time alone with Rikke, and maybe the chance to advance their relationship a bit further, but not when this was the reason for the opportunity. He supposed it was ridiculous to worry when Ulfric was in the company of not only his extremely protective Dragonborn wife but two strapping young warriors, all of them armed, armored and enchanted beyond belief. Ulfric was an impressive warrior himself and was geared up to near invincibility. He had nothing to worry about. Even if the last time Ulfric had left Windhelm without him, his Jarl had nearly gone to the block in Helgen. He was sure nothing would happen. And yet he couldn't help being worried.

Ulfric rolled his eyes and answered, "Yes Galmar, I do. I appreciate your concern, but it's misplaced."

"It's my damn job."

"I'll be back before long, I'm sure." He looked between Galmar and Rikke, who was standing next to the housecarl, and added wryly, "Use the time wisely."

"Good grief, Ulfric," Rikke muttered, shaking her head at him. He chuckled and smirked at her, and Galmar cleared his throat, seeming embarrassed of all things. She had let him take things at his own speed since their meeting of the minds a couple weeks ago, and now that he had her cooperation and agreement he was taking things at what she felt was a snail's pace, but he was the one working through lingering grief, and bits of guilt. His own daughters had told him that Eldi wouldn't have wanted him to be alone. Rikke had finally met the girls, or young women rather, and they seemed to accept her, though they had seemed to be at a loss as to what to say to her. She wasn't what they were used to in a woman, having been in the Legion her entire adult life, but it wasn't as if that really mattered. It was sweet watching Galmar interact with his daughters, showing her a side of him that she had only recently become aware of. It would be nice to see him with some grandchildren someday. She wasn't sure what that would make her, though. Better to not even go there in thought.

After what seemed an interminable length of time the four were on their way to the stables, Ulfric muttering, "What does he think is going to happen to me? I've never seen him so worried."

Bryn said, "I think he's more worried about himself, beloved." Ulfric laughed and nodded in realization. "It's sweet that they're taking their time."

"Rikke hasn't been the one responsible. She's going to pounce on the poor man while we're gone." He snorted a laugh and added, "And hence Galmar's anxiety."

"Once they get over that first time he'll be fine. If he introduced her to his daughters it must be serious." Rikke hadn't really said much to Bryn about it and Bryn hadn't asked, to avoid looking nosy, but she knew Galmar told Ulfric everything, and Ulfric probably told Galmar more than he should. She supposed that was how men were, and Galmar didn't treat her any differently because of it.

"I would say it is." He looked up at the sky and said, "I hope the weather holds out." Bryn could easily clear the skies with a Shout, but she deeply disliked using that one, afraid it would cause problems with the weather patterns that she couldn't foresee.

"Afraid to get your fancy new armor muddy?"

"Yes." His response made her laugh and the two young men behind them chuckle.

"Well it looks very nice on you." He smiled warmly at her, and she was serious. It was a slightly different style from Vilkas' ebony plate, which was in an older design, but both sets were lovely. It was highly unlikely that any bandits would trouble them on the road, impressive as the four of them looked. She added, "Maybe you'll get lucky and we'll come across a rogue dragon."

"That would be fantastic. Unlikely at this point, but fantastic."

"You never know. Odahviing says they're still out there, but they don't seem to be causing any harm at this point so I've left them alone."

Ulfric glanced back at Ralof and said, "If the lad got the chance to fight two, it's only fair I get one." Ralof shrugged sheepishly then grinned. Ulfric laughed and they continued on their way to the stables to take a carriage to Riften. He was happy to get out of the Palace and spend some time with his wife doing things he had never done before, seeing things he would likely never get the chance to see ever again. He could only hope that they came across a dragon that needed killing, both for the thrill of fighting one and the chance to see Bryn absorb a soul. Every one she took increased her power, and she would need all she could get.

As she climbed into the wagon ahead of him he saw the shape of the two Elder Scrolls in her pack, making his happiness dim. She hadn't said much of anything about them, and he hadn't asked other than whether she had them. She had spent a couple days at home and now today they were off. She seemed fine and in good spirits, but maybe she was avoiding thinking about it. He prayed to Mara, the Goddess of Compassion, that the moth priest's eyesight really had recovered and Bryn wouldn't be forced to go through with the reading, but he knew that there really was nothing Mara could do. Ulfric knew little to nothing about the priests or the Elder Scrolls, but he knew that the Divines rarely intervened in the matters of mortals, though he would have thought they would be a little kinder to this particular one.

* * *

_The Scrolls have a mind of their own. If they didn't want you to find them, they wouldn't allow it._

Ulfric stifled another shiver, desperate to not let his wife or the two Guards see it. He wouldn't be able to pass it off as the cold; they were in Falkreath hold, and while it was snowing lightly and they were in the mountains, it was nothing compared to the chill of Windhelm. They had fought a number of bandits on the way here from the town of Falkreath, along with a few vampires, so he was warm from that as well. Bryn hadn't said a word except when spoken to since they had left Riften, and no one had spoken to her since Falkreath, respecting her wish to be alone in her own head. Well, that was going to change when they reached the Ancestor Glade. He had the feeling that being alone in her head was not at all good for his wife, and he wasn't going to allow her to continue.

The trip so far had been more interesting than expected, and Fort Dawnguard itself had been impressive. It was in much better shape than the majority of forts around Skyrim, probably due to the shelter of the canyon. And armored trolls! The armored trolls had thrilled him more than anything else he had seen. He had stayed there watching them for several minutes while Bryn spoke with the smith Gunmar. He couldn't wait to tell Galmar about it.

All in all, Ulfric had found the visit to the Fort well worth it. There had been refugees camped outside, folk whose homes and families had been attacked by vampires, something Bryn had found surprising and Serana had viewed with something akin to guilt, or what he supposed was guilt. The vampire girl wasn't particularly expressive, from what Ulfric could tell. She was a beautiful girl, but he couldn't help viewing her as a monster, something that needed to be destroyed. She most likely could tell from the look of distaste on his face every time she looked at him. It was probably why she had stopped looking. Ralof and Hadvar ignored her for the most part, most likely the best course of action. Her assistance in all this had been invaluable, but he couldn't help but hope that Bryn forced Serana to get cured at the end of this, or destroyed her. No matter how friendly the creature seemed, she still fed on people against their will, and that could not be tolerated.

It was with mixed relief and foreboding that Ulfric finally saw the cleft in the rock they were looking for, with what looked to be an abandoned hunter's camp outside. He motioned everyone inside the cavern, glad to get out of the wind. At first glance it looked no different than any other mountain cave, and he quietly said to the young men, "Be on your guard. Such places are never uninhabited." They nodded, probably better aware than he was. It seemed quiet here though. Unnaturally quiet.

As they headed in Serana said, "Hmph. Not very impressive is it?" She looked at Bryn and went on in a worried tone, "If this ends up being a wasted trip, your friend Dexion and I are going to have words when we get back, my Queen." She was as sick of all the running around as the rest of them were. Bryn didn't answer, looking around the cave silently. Too silently. She had been so silent since they left Fort Dawnguard that even Serana was starting to get spooked.

"Why don't we go further in before we decide that," Ulfric stated, and she looked away and nodded, lowering the protective hood she wore outside. Bryn glanced around then went to the left, up onto a ledge, and as she crossed a log spanning the gap Ulfric quietly said to Ralof and Hadvar, "You lads guard the entrance here."

Ralof nodded obediently, and Hadvar softly asked, "My lord…you're sure you can manage if…well, the worst happens?" He was willing to take Ulfric's orders when Bryn didn't seem capable of giving them, or chose not to. The Jarl had Hadvar's respect if nothing else yet. The older man had been a strong, uncomplaining traveling companion and clearly adored his wife. He certainly complained a lot less than Rikke had. He had kept up with the younger folk quite well and more than held his own in a fight, his efforts to keep up his skills and his fitness obvious. Hadvar had never sparred against the Jarl but he had against Galmar, and the old bear wasn't as fast as Hadvar but he more than made up for it in sheer strength and experience. Hadvar was sure sparring against Ulfric would be much the same.

"If you hear me Shout, you'll know it did. Then I may need your help."

"Aye, my lord."

Ulfric nodded and hurried after Bryn and Serana, feeling a warm, moist breeze flow past him as he followed the path down, water dripping off the rocks around him. He stopped as the cavern opened up into a scene of breathtaking beauty, but Bryn walked on as if she didn't see the beam of light shining down from the open roof, or the moths fluttering serenely in the breeze, didn't smell the sweet fragrance of mountain flowers and the blooming trees below. The vampire girl was affected as much as Ulfric though, her orange eyes wide with delight. She was definitely a pretty girl, if one could look past those eyes. And the fangs. Which he could not.

"Wow," Serana breathed, "look at this place. No one's been here in centuries." She took a deep breath and added, "I doubt there's any other place like it in Skyrim. It's…beautiful."

"Yes, it is," he agreed, feeling something should be said. "A sacred space indeed." He hurried after his wife as she headed around a bend towards the floor of the cavern. He saw bubbling pools of hot water, very similar to the ones that dotted the volcanic tundra of Eastmarch and probably responsible for the lush plant life here. The moths seemed to be the only fauna in the cavern, making Ulfric relax the slightest bit. It was highly unusual for such comfortable accommodations to be uninhabited, but perhaps some sort of ancient magic was guarding the place. Which didn't quite reassure him.

He followed the path down, and by time he reached the bottom he saw his wife passing through a series of stone trilithons. As he met up with her he found her staring at an odd, circular carved stone, at the center of which a double-handled knife eerily floated. She reached out and plucked it from the open space, and he asked her, "That's for gathering the bark?" She nodded, and before she could turn away he put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her. Serana was further back, wary of the beam of concentrated moonlight, and probably equally wary of Bryn right now. "Precious," Ulfric murmured. Bryn didn't answer but didn't move away. "Don't keep shutting me out. It doesn't help." She shivered, her stony façade cracking slightly, and he whispered, "I know you're afraid. I'll be right next to you when you do the reading."

"Maybe you shouldn't be," she whispered as she slid the pack off her back and left it at the base of the stone circle. The Scrolls weren't going anywhere, and if they did it was by their own choice.

"I won't look at the Scrolls, trust me." They were so far outside his understanding that he doubted they would affect him in any way, but he wasn't one to take chances. Not chances like that.

"But…what if I hurt you?"

"You won't."

"I might if I go crazy."

"I doubt you would harm me even then, and if you do go mad, it will be temporary. Do you truly think the Scrolls let you find them only to leave you mad and blind? There's no purpose in that. No, there is a reason they wanted you to find them, and read them." He put his hand behind her neck and added, "You are Dovahkiin, the strongest one who has ever existed, a daughter of Akatosh, dragon-souled. This will not break you. I believe this with all my heart." Bryn stared at him with a pained expression, one he hadn't seen since they first came together: _I hate what I am._ It left him feeling helpless. Maybe he had reminded her of her nature too much over the last couple weeks. It was a delicate dance he wasn't really prepared for. He had thought she accepted her nature by now. All he could hope was that once the vampires were destroyed and she was able to truly make a home with him in Windhelm that she would find a more permanent peace of mind. And if she didn't, well, he had sworn when he married her to accept all of her, for better or worse. Mara knew he was the one who had benefited most from the marriage so far.

He kissed her cheek and gently ordered, "Go gather the bark and catch the moths." She nodded obediently, and it made him feel uncomfortably like her father for a moment, but it was obviously necessary. Ulfric glanced at the vampire, who gazed back with glowing orange eyes that made his skin crawl, nearly as much as her blank, lifeless expression did. He motioned slightly with his head towards Bryn, and Serana stiffened slightly then wrinkled her nose and came towards Bryn, staying out of the shaft of light.

Serana awkwardly said, "Well then, we have the knife. Now all we need to do is track down one of those Canticle Trees, right?" She pointed to the tree with pink blossoms nearby. "Maybe this one?"

"Sure," Bryn muttered. She followed Serana to the tree, which grew out of one of the steaming pools. She looked up at the canopy of delicate pink blossoms overhead then closed her eyes, breathing in the spicy/sweet scent, trying to let it soothe her. Well, it smelled good anyway. She sighed heavily and opened her eyes and laid her hand on the bark, which had a flaky texture to it, and when she pulled her hand away it was dusted brown. She sniffed at it and realized it was the source of the spice she smelled. She asked Serana, "What do you think? Just shave a few strips off?"

"Sounds good to me." Bryn took the knife in both hands and drew it down the trunk several times, peeling off a few strips. She handed the knife to Serana, who said, "I hope the moths like that bark as much as Dexion said they would." She sniffed then put her hand over her nose. "Wow, uh…pungent." Now that it was off the tree it was giving off an intense fragrance that was almost overwhelming. It was on the knife too, and she went to the stone circle and set the knife back inside, where it began floating again. She returned to Bryn and touched her arm as she pointed at a cluster of moths nearby. "Let's try those ones and see what happens. Just walk up to them, I guess."

Bryn tried not to grumble as she walked over to the moths, and they ignored her until she walked right into the center of the cluster. They dipped to taste the bark then began lazily circling around Bryn. She had to admit, they were quite pretty, and she could hear the faintest trilling sound, just on the edge of her hearing.

Serana laughed, "Look at them! They've definitely taken a liking to you." She paused and tilted her head as she added, "And unless I'm seeing things, you're starting to…uh, glimmer."

"Wonderful," Bryn said shortly. "I've never glimmered before. That's just fantastic. Maybe that will end up being permanent too."

Bryn stalked off, and Serana looked helplessly at Ulfric, who shook his head. The vampire moved off to the side again, out of the water, and Ulfric waited near the shaft of light and watched as his wife walked through the cavern gathering moth swarms to her, a ball of light growing around her the more she attracted. When she returned to Ulfric and moved into the column of moonlight his breath caught. She looked like…he had no idea, but he had never seen anything even close to it. Divine. She glowed softly as several dozen moths fluttered around her, and he could hear a soft sound coming from them, almost like crickets on a summer evening in the Rift. It was eerie and beautiful, more beautiful than nearly anything else he had ever seen, but Bryn's obvious fear and discomfort sullied it. "Is that all of them?" he asked. Bryn nodded stiffly, in fact her entire body was stiff, as if it was taking all her willpower to not just take off running. He couldn't go to her either, with the moths in the way. "Let's get this done then." He asked Serana, "In what order should the Scrolls be read?"

"I'm not sure it matters," she replied. She went to Bryn's pack and pulled out the Scrolls, seeing there were still three there. She gathered them into her arms and went to Bryn, picking out the Blood Scroll and holding it out to her. Bryn stared at it, swallowing hard as her nostrils flared, and Serana could hear her heart pumping fearfully. Feeling sorry for her, Serana murmured, "We won't let anything happen to you, my Queen, I swear it."

"You might not have any say in that," Bryn stated, and she plucked the Scroll from the vampire's hand and clutched it to her chest. She stared at Ulfric, who gazed back evenly. Fearlessly. He truly believed nothing terrible would happen to her. Maybe she wouldn't go mad, or blind, but this was going to end up doing something awful to her. The last time she had done this she had fought the World-Eater and days later lost the love of her life. Vilkas would have come here with her, and he would have been afraid for her. Maybe Ulfric was and just didn't let it show. Maybe Ulfric viewed her so strongly as Dragonborn that it overrode everything else. He nodded to her, urging her to go on, and she didn't say anything, as she had planned to. He knew she loved him, and anything she said right now would come off as melodramatic.

Ulfric took a slow, deep breath as Bryn lowered her gaze from his then pulled the first Elder Scroll open. He kept his eyes on hers and off the strange magical…whatever, it wasn't quite parchment or anything else he could identify, and he wasn't about to stare at the thing to figure it out. Bryn blinked and studied the Scroll, then she let it retract back into its case and handed it to Serana, who gave her another. Ulfric resisted the urge to hold his breath, watching his wife for any sign of madness, and as she pulled open the second Scroll he saw her blink hard as if trying to clear her vision, her pupils narrowing to pinpoints. She whispered softly to herself, her eyes moving over the markings that he didn't dare even glance at. She nodded then closed the Scroll and traded it for the last one, and when she opened this one she staggered slightly, the moths suddenly starting to whirl madly around her.

"_Dovah Kel,"_ she muttered, her eyes scanning the Scroll intently.

"Dragon Scroll," Ulfric whispered at Serana's frown of confusion. Bryn shook her head as if to clear it, closing her eyes for a long moment, then they flew open as the moths' trilling intensified.

"Martin," she whispered. "If he only knew how you loved him. He never knew your last thoughts were of him. Do you know what he has become?"

Ulfric frowned deeply in confusion, his wife's words so meaningless that he couldn't begin to guess what she was talking about. Then the moths' trilling rose to a near scream, and Ulfric had to resist the urge to put his hands over his ears.

"The blood of dragons will rule again from White-Gold Tower…"

Ulfric felt his heart go into his throat at the statement, and when Serana made a choking sound and went for Bryn's pack he could only stand there in confusion as to what she was doing. The girl shoved the two Scrolls into the pack then dug around for something and came up with a battered journal and a nub of pencil, flipping to the back to quickly write something down.

"The golden wave will break and retreat to the Isles of Summer, never to rise again. The gift of Akatosh shall not fail as long as dragons fly…fly northern skies…" Bryn frowned and mumbled, "The Empire's future lies within the dragon's blood, _dovah sos_. Yes, I see that. But that means…" She squinted at the Scroll, her irises so tightly constricted that not even a hint of pupil showed. "Oh…" A smile briefly flitted across her face. "Isn't she beautiful, Vilkas? She has your hair, _grohiiki,_ your mouth. Little cub, come see your baby sister…" Bryn suddenly wailed in despair, throwing the Scroll away from her with a shriek then grinding her heels into her eyes, the moths bursting away from her and scattering, their trills going silent and the glow shutting off instantly.

When Bryn screamed again in horror, the roof of the cavern rumbling ominously, Ulfric grabbed her upper arms and shook her, yelling her name, and she slid down out of his hands to the ground with a moan then began to sob hysterically. "Ah, precious," he choked. She put her forehead to the ground, her hands over her head, and when she began to rock back and forth and keen he sank to his knees next to her to pet her hair, tears pricking his eyes. He had never really seen her cry other than the occasional tear sliding down her cheek. This weeping was heartbreaking. He rubbed her back and was about to softly say something to her when he heard distant shouts and the sudden clash of weapons above. Serana dropped the journal and ran full bore up the path toward the fight, her hands lighting up with magic, and Ulfric cursed helplessly and stayed where he was to guard his wife. He had to trust Ralof, Hadvar and Serana to deal with the problem, whatever it was. He had vowed to not leave his wife in her moment of need, and he wouldn't unless he had no other choice.

Ulfric grit his teeth as the sounds of fighting grew nearer, and he turned to keep the entrance to the cave in sight, his hand near his axe. It drove him to distraction to sit here while they were basically under attack. Bryn seemed completely unaware of it, but her weeping was loud, resonating around them, something that would no doubt horrify her; she couldn't even grieve without everyone hearing it. It probably wasn't even her weeping keeping her unaware, since she didn't acknowledge his touch or presence in any way, and he wanted to believe she would if she could. He patted her back, the touch not as comforting as he would have liked through her armor, and whispered, "My poor sweetheart." None of them had bargained for what had happened. _Prophecy,_ he thought with a superstitious shudder. He hesitated then reached over her back to pick up the journal off the ground, and as he did so a folded square of paper fell out of it. He picked it up and unfolded it, stained and worn along the edges and creases, as if it had been opened and refolded dozens of times.

_My dearest love…_

His breath caught as he realized what it was: a love letter from Vilkas, an old one by the looks of it. He licked his lips uncertainly, then he shook his head and cursed his nosiness as he quickly read it, short as it was. So the impressive gold bracelet the Harbinger had worn at the Moot had been a gift from Bryn, probably one she had crafted herself knowing her. He had sworn to never take it off, and he seemed as good as his word. Ulfric took in a shuddering breath and carefully refolded the letter then tucked it inside the journal, with no idea of where it had fallen from, and if it became an issue later he would own up to reading it and tell her why he had. He wondered if he still would have read it if she hadn't just spoken of a vision of having children with the other man. A daughter with Vilkas' dark hair, and another child before that. _Grohiiki…_my wolf. A little wolf cub, and a beautiful dark-haired baby girl. He wasn't sure how the Elder Scrolls worked, but it was cruel of them to show her a vision of what could have been, when there was no purpose to it that he could tell.

Ulfric sighed heavily with guilty grief and looked up to see Serana coming back down, looking a bit disheveled but fine, and when she nodded to him he relaxed and sat down cross-legged next to his wife, staying in contact with her. He paged through the journal, sadly fascinated by the crossed-out entries, starting with her very first task for Balgruuf and his wizard to fetch something called a Dragonstone. As Serana neared he flipped back to the entry the vampire had made, and it sent fresh chills through him. It wasn't a particularly vague prophecy, as they went.

"Vampires," Serana murmured as she bent over to pick up the discarded Dragon Scroll. "They must have been following us, or were hunting for us and heard her screaming." Bryn's sobs had died down to soft weeping and her rocking stopped. Serana tucked the Scroll into Bryn's pack with the others, feeling terrible for her. Sympathy. Yes, that was what she was feeling: sympathy. It was rather unpleasant.

"Did the lads drink a potion afterward?" Serana nodded. "How many were there?"

"Three vampires and several thralls. It wasn't too difficult. Ralof and Hadvar didn't take any serious injuries." Ulfric nodded and looked down at his wife then the journal in his hand. Serana said in a wary tone, "So, did that prophecy mean what I think it did?" She hadn't really spent much time getting caught up on world events, but she knew this Empire that had been in place for a while was in danger of toppling because of Elves, and had only started failing when the Dragonborn bloodline ruling it had failed. Some Martin person that Bryn had mentioned at some point, the last Dragonborn Emperor, had died and left a power vacuum; maybe that was the Martin she had just spoken of so mysteriously. For not the first time Serana wondered if the Dragonborn actually had the blood of dragons in their veins. She wouldn't dream of drinking a drop of the stuff even if it was freely offered. Divines only knew what would happen to her if she did.

"Probably." It would figure that defeating the Aldmeri Dominion would come at the cost of Bryn becoming Empress. Titus Mede II had no direct heirs; he had never married or fathered children on any of his many mistresses over the years, and his nieces and nephews were rumored to be completely useless, either uninterested in the responsibilities of ruling or interested in ruling for all the wrong reasons. Ulfric wouldn't put it past the Emperor to pass over them all to name Bryn his successor. Having another ruler with dragon blood on the throne could pull the Empire back together, what remained of it, and a strong Dragonborn dynasty would keep it together after that. Ulfric didn't particularly relish the thought of any of his children ruling the Empire, or living outside Skyrim. Well, it wasn't worth worrying about now. He held out the journal to the vampire girl, who took it and stowed it away in the pack, finding the pencil and putting it away as well. "Quick thinking," he offered. He could give her at least that much.

"Thank you. I was afraid we might forget the exact words later." She frowned and asked, "Do you think she'll remember any of it?"

"I hope not."

"Who is Vilkas?"

"Her first love. The Harbinger of the Companions of Whiterun."

"So there are still Companions and a Harbinger? Interesting."

"Yes. They took her in, when she first came to Skyrim, after Helgen. Trained her, gave her safe harbor. She still thinks of them as family." One she obviously missed a great deal.

"But…why would the Scroll show her with him? With children? It makes no sense."

"How so?"

She folded her arms and stated, "The Scrolls are a record of that which has already happened, and that which may still happen. They don't deal in might-have-beens. To the Scrolls, the past is over and done, recorded." Ulfric stared at her, frowning deeply, looking unsettled. Serana suddenly realized what that could mean, and she quickly said, "Well, maybe it was just…I don't know, her imagination. She wasn't herself. She still isn't."

"Perhaps," Ulfric murmured. "Let us hope so. I would suggest we both keep this to ourselves, if she doesn't remember it. There's no sense in troubling her more than is necessary." It was troubling him, but it would torment her. Ulfric would have to die for the future she had seen to happen. Well, of course he could die at any time. Anyone could. And if he died, he hoped she and Vilkas could work things out between them. There was really nothing that terribly ominous about it, when it came right down to it, but knowing Bryn she would obsess on it until she drove them all mad with it.

"All right." She was more than willing to let it go. She motioned towards the pathway going up and out of the cavern. "Should we try moving her? Maybe see if she can get some sleep up above?" Bryn was moaning softly, still oblivious to their conversation going on right over her head, occasionally shuddering as she clutched her head.

"That may be best." Ulfric gently shook his wife, murmuring her name, and as expected she didn't respond. He hauled himself up to a squatting position then put his arms around Bryn's waist and tried to pull her up. "Gods have mercy," he grunted between gritted teeth. It was like trying to move a statue. His wife was not a dainty woman, as tall as him, and while beautiful and feminine she was also quite muscular, but still he should have been able to at least make her budge. She hadn't even noticed that he had tried.

"Shout at her." Ulfric quickly looked up, appalled by the suggestion. "You don't have to blast her, just… give her a nudge with it." Serana wasn't about to put her hands on the Queen herself and carry her if she didn't have to. That just wasn't her thing.

"The _thu'um_ is not… No, she will just sleep here."

"We shouldn't be separated."

Ulfric stared at her, knowing she was right. Ralof and Hadvar would need sleep as well, and they would all sleep better together. It was also too damn warm down here amongst all the hot springs with armor on. He sighed and stiffly rose to his feet, saying, "Go join the others. I don't want them to worry when they hear it." Serana nodded and picked up Bryn's pack then took off at a run. He waited until she was up near the cleft in the rock then disappeared into it, then he turned back to his wife, writhing with guilt at having to do this. He knew from her studies with Paarthurnax that she was resistant to Unrelenting Force. His Shout really would do little more than nudge her, if he used only the first Word of it. He had been fully prepared to use the _thu'um_ to subdue her if she truly went insane, but this didn't seem right. He knew it should be done, but it wasn't easy. He nibbled at his bottom lip for a moment, then he sighed heavily.

Taking a deep breath, Ulfric focused then Shouted, _"FUS!"_ at her. As expected, all it did was rock her slightly, but to his relief she made a mewling sound and lifted her head. He quickly knelt by her and gave her a shake. "Brynhilde. You have to get up," he gently demanded. She made a sound of pain and pushed herself up onto her hands. "There you go, precious. Come, get up. On your feet."

"_Nid,"_ she moaned. _"Bein qostiid…vul grohiik ahmul? Nid!"_

"It was only a dream," he said through the choking lump in his throat. "A…_munax hahnu."_ A cruel dream, showing her the man she had truly wanted, a dark wolf husband at her bedside, with children in both their arms. Well Ulfric was the husband she had in reality, and one day he would give her children of his own. He took her upper arm and pulled, and with another whining sound of protest she got up onto her knees, and when he pulled again she finally struggled to her feet.

"_Zu'u los porah!"_

"Your vision will return, my treasure, I promise." He put his hand on her cheek and she flinched away, her eyes staring through him, the pupils still constricted down to nearly nothing. Her eyes were red from weeping and her expression was one of dumbstruck horror. He touched her again and this time she allowed it, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. "Ulfric is here, precious. I will take care of you, all right?" She swallowed and nodded. He put his arm around her waist and she shivered and clung to him, relieving him; he'd been half afraid she would push him away. "We're going back up, out of the cave. Closer to the entrance. Vampires attacked. We need to stay together."

"_Geh."_

"Come on. I'll guide you." He carefully led Bryn through the stone arches, wondering how long she was going to keep speaking in dragon tongue, wondering why she even was. Some effect of the Dragon Scroll, most likely. The other two Scrolls hadn't seemed to bother her at all, but that one had affected her profoundly.

"_Kelle…"_

"Serana has the Scrolls. They've served their purpose. We'll take them to the moth priest when we're done, and he can take them back to Cyrodiil with him. Tullius can spare men to escort him back, once it's safe." Bryn didn't reply, even to nod. She closed her eyes, useless as they were, and he continued carefully leading her up the path, steadying her when she stumbled on the uneven steps.

It took some doing to get her down off the ledge, Ralof and Hadvar hurrying over to help, but between the three men and Serana they were able to get Bryn down and camp set within view of the entrance to the cave. Bryn refused to eat and retreated into her bedroll, pulling it up over her head, Ulfric sitting on his next to her, and when she shuddered and began weeping again there was nothing he could do but lay his hand on her to let her know he was there, his heart hurting for her. The two young men looked pained, helpless to do anything. Ulfric wasn't about to try to explain why she wept, either. He wouldn't even know where to start. The future would play out either way, and all he could do was help his wife if the first prophecy came true, and do everything in his power to stay alive so the second did not.


	45. Chapter 45

Farkas knocked on his brother's bedroom door, wondering why Vilkas wasn't up yet. His twin wasn't a particularly early riser and never had been, but he was usually up by now, and when he didn't answer the door Farkas let himself in; Vilkas had told him a number of times to wake him if he wasn't up by nine.

When he went in he saw his twin sitting on the side of the bed, his back to the door and his head in his hands, and Farkas paused in the doorway, stunned to see the pillow was wet. "Hey," he said quietly, "everything okay?" Vilkas shook his head and sniffed. "Bad dream?" They both still had them sometimes, though they dreamed less than they had with the beastblood and slept more deeply, and with the better memory Vilkas had always had it worse. The nightmares hardly ever made either of them cry though.

"Was it bad?" Vilkas snorted a bitter laugh. "No, it…it was a good dream, but it will never happen, so… maybe it was bad." He rubbed his face and felt his brother sit next to him, and he muttered, "You were right. Everything you ever told me about her was right."

"Bryn?"

"Yes." Vilkas made a sound of pain and angrily said, "Why does Mara continue to torment me? What did I ever do to her? I know I was wrong, I know I should have married Bryn, but it's too late now! Why would Mara show me something I can never have?"

Farkas slowly shook his head, looking sorrowful. "It was just a dream, Vilkas. I've never heard of Mara doing anything cruel. She just doesn't."

"It was too real to be just a dream. I've never had a dream like that. Every detail…so real."

"Well…what was it?"

Vilkas sniffed and went on, "I don't know where it was. It was a room I've never seen before, but it was…regal. The bed was on a dais, and there was a fireplace behind it. Bryn was…she was lying in the bed, and a healer was leaving, a Dunmer I think, a priest, and…and she had our daughter in her hands. A newborn with dark hair, so tiny and perfect, and I had our son in my arms, a blond little boy of maybe two. She called me _grohiiki._ How in Oblivion could it be just a dream when I don't even know what the hell that means! I've never even heard that word before!"

When Vilkas choked and put his face in his hands again, Farkas sighed heavily and put his arm around Vilkas, not knowing what to say. It was too sad for words. He couldn't even guess what it meant. The dream really did seem too detailed to be Vilkas' sleeping imagination, but there was no way it could ever be real; Bryn was married to Ulfric.

"What am I going to do at Aela's wedding?" Vilkas groaned into his hands. The thought of seeing her with Ulfric made him sick to his stomach. Seeing her holding Ulfric's hand during the wedding, the way she'd held Vilkas' at Farkas and Lydia's wedding. Seeing the matching wedding bands on their hands. Vilkas had never had the courage to ask Farkas or Lydia about Bryn's wedding, but he had overheard Farkas telling Aela about what a 'great party' the wedding feast had been; Vilkas had left before he could hear any more.

"I guess…just don't look."

"Right," he scoffed. "And just not listen while I'm at it?"

"Maybe you should talk to the priests of Mara about it. The dream. While we're in Riften."

Vilkas sighed and lifted his head. "Maybe you're right." It was actually a good suggestion. Not that Farkas' suggestions were always dumb. He leaned against his brother and mumbled, "Thanks."

"No problem. I'm sorry. I wish I knew why this happened. You're right that it seems too real to be a dream, but…I just don't get it. Why would you dream about a room you never saw and a word you never heard?"

"Because I'm cursed, that's why."

"Kinda self-absorbed too."

Vilkas elbowed Farkas in the ribs, making him laugh. Vilkas got up and muttered, "Bastard."

"Yeah, well if I'm a bastard that means you are too." The old joke made his twin laugh quietly, then Vilkas sighed. "I wonder how Bryn's doing against the vampires?" Farkas said. "Last I heard things were going pretty rough. I'm glad she was able to get that Hadvar guy to help her, but it worries me that it was even necessary."

"Vampires are nothing to trifle with, even for her," Vilkas quietly stated, pulling off his nightshirt. He had never been comfortable with Bryn traveling and fighting alone, something she had done much too often. The two young men with her these days would be more than adequate Guards and were probably seeing more action than they had ever bargained for. Vilkas couldn't help being a bit envious of that. He spent more time here in Jorrvaskr than he liked, though it was partly self-imposed. Maybe he would be better off doing more jobs, taking Erik with him. The more time he spent around the lad the more he liked him, and while it was much too early yet, he could see the redhead one day taking his place. The young man had all the fire and personality the other junior members lacked, without Vilkas' temper. The Companions never wanted for work these days, so doing a few more jobs here and there wouldn't be a bad thing.

"One of her letters to us said that Odahviing said even the dragons stay away from their island." He shuddered. "Ugh, a whole island of bloodsuckers. Gives me the creeps." Not as much as an island full of spiders would, but still pretty bad.

"I hope they get destroyed soon. Everyone is running into them much too often. Lydia's potions have been a blessing." Farkas smiled proudly, and Vilkas laughed and began to dress. Farkas had certainly done well for himself in taking a wife. Vilkas couldn't imagine Jorrvaskr without her now. Tilma rarely woke these days, constantly attended, and was refusing solid food, so it was only a matter of weeks or even days before Lydia truly became the mistress of the mead hall and inherited the Heart of Jeek of the River. The thought always sent a shiver of anxiety through Vilkas, fearful of the secrets that his sister-in-law would discover when the Heart began whispering to her; Tilma had told her about the Heart a few weeks ago, and she had taken the news fairly well. He didn't doubt that she would eventually discover that the Circle had once been werewolves, and that Aela still was one. He was still torn as to whether to wait for her to find out on her own, or take her aside and talk to her about it right after Tilma passed. Either option had its problems, but he was leaning towards telling her himself. Lydia would be furious if the news came as a surprise from some weird, mystical source like the Heart. Lydia and Farkas had been married long enough that it hopefully wouldn't cause problems between them.

After Vilkas dressed and Farkas headed up to the Skyforge, Vilkas decided to push ahead and tell Lydia, and no time like the present, before he talked himself out of it. He went upstairs to get breakfast and saw that Aerin was sitting with Tilma today, feeding the elderly woman some broth from a mug, too weak to hold it herself. He quickly ate then went outside to find it raining heavily and Athis and Torvar sparring while Lydia practiced archery under Aela's tutelage and Mjoll sat with baby Skjorta in her lap, propping up the little one to watch, pointing and explaining the fine points of archery to her. The sight made Vilkas laugh softly to himself. As if an infant could learn anything like that, but it was cute to see, though it made his heart ache anew over the dream. He could still feel the little boy in his arms, holding onto him tightly, trustingly, his bright blond hair shimmering in the candle- and firelight. He could still see the tiny swaddled newborn in Bryn's hands, the baby's dark hair still damp from being washed after birth, her little lips pursed and brow furrowed in a scowl that was too much like his own. It had all been so real. Until that dream he had never really imagined what it would be like to be a father, had never really wanted children of his own no matter how he had loved Bryn. Now he grieved the family that could have been, and would never be. He supposed he would just have to make do with what he had here: Aela's daughter and Farkas' child. Lydia's belly was just beginning to swell, barely visible under her tunic shirt.

He took a seat next to Mjoll, who smiled at him, though it faded slightly when she saw his grieved expression. "Everything all right, Shield-Brother?" she asked. "It isn't Tilma, is it?"

"No, no, she's awake and having some broth with Aerin. I…just had a bad dream."

She made a sound of sympathy, then she held out the baby to him. "Here, babies make everything better." Vilkas' expression tightened then he curtly shook his head and looked away from Skjorta, folding his arms. It confused and concerned Mjoll. Vilkas never went out of his way to hold the baby, but he never refused her when she was offered, though it was more a calculated move on his part to form a bond with a child who would grow up in the same household than any real desire to hold her. She gently offered, "Well, if you need a shoulder, you know where I am."

"Thank you, Shield-Sister, but…I don't think it's a subject you'll be inclined to be sympathetic about."

"Ah, I see. I don't think you're altogether right about that, but have it your way." To be fair Vilkas hadn't seemed to have been moping about Bryn lately, but he was so moody in general it was hard to tell. Mjoll didn't really understand what Bryn had seen about the man other than his looks. He was a good man, an outstanding warrior, and sure he was probably great in bed, but you didn't spend most of your time in bed. She had to admit though that he seemed to be a very good Harbinger. He took the welfare of the Companions quite seriously and ran the business well and kept the younger members in line. Vilkas grumbled, and she asked in concern, "What are you going to do at our wedding?" He made a sound of annoyance and got up and walked away.

"Lydia," he called. His sister-in-law lowered the bow and looked at him, and he motioned with his head towards Jorrvaskr. "Can I talk to you for a bit? Inside?"

Lydia handed the bow and arrow to Aela, who asked with worry, "Is it Tilma?"

"No, no." Not in the way Aela was thinking.

Lydia hurried over to him, asking, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing really. It's ah…something I've been meaning to talk to you about, that's all."

"All right," she said warily. His expression told her otherwise, and when he led her all the way downstairs and into his bedroom then shut and locked the door she knew it wasn't good. She shook her head when he offered the bed for her to sit on. She folded her arms and said, "Like hell nothing's wrong. Out with it." He grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. "Is it really about Tilma?"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking. And the ah…the Heart." She nodded slowly, her expression wary. "What did Tilma tell you about it?"

"That it has belonged to the mistress of the house for thousands of years, and tells her everything she needs to know about what's going on here, inside the walls and right outside them. She said it whispers to her. I have to admit it's a little weird, but I think I can handle weird after what I went through with Bryn."

"Yes, well…this is a whole different level of weird," Vilkas said uncomfortably. Lydia frowned at him, waiting. "The Heart…I don't know how it works, exactly. Jeek's spirit or something, I suppose, watching what goes on here. The thing is…eh, by Ysmir, I don't know how to say it…"

"It's going to tell me something bad, is that it?"

"It depends what you think is bad. It…it's something that went on here for a long time. Something Kodlak and Bryn put an end to. In Ysgramor's tomb, right after he died. A tradition that never should have been started. A curse, that only the Circle bore." She waited, wary and tense now that she knew it had to do with her husband. "Bryn took on the curse, for a little while, only a few weeks, trying to understand it better, but her dragon blood negated any effects of it. Kodlak figured out the cure and sent her for it, but by time she came back he was already dead. By the Silver Hand."

Lydia paled, feeling sick to her stomach, her arm around her middle. "Werewolves!" she whispered in horrified realization. "Stendarr's mercy, you really were all _werewolves?!"_ Vilkas looked at her with a pained expression, not denying it. So that was why Farkas had waited so long to ask her to marry him. Why Vilkas' behavior had mellowed somewhat, his temper more easily controlled. Why Farkas wasn't as distracted as before. Why they had stopped wearing the wolf armor. The Silver Hand had had real reason to attack them. At that Lydia's fury wavered slightly; she refused to believe that her husband and his brother had deserved it, no matter what they were, and the honorable Kodlak and Skjor had certainly never deserved being cut down. "Did you ever eat…ugh, tell me you didn't, Vilkas! Tell me Farkas never did!" When he didn't answer immediately she cried out and put her hands over her mouth.

"Only when we were first turned, when we were young, until we learned control," he said intently. "I swear to you, it wasn't anything we could help! You don't understand how horrible it was. Bryn tried to by taking on the Blood. She tried and it didn't work, there was no way she could understand. Farkas and I were turned when we were younger than you, when we joined the Circle. It was simply the price that had to be paid, to become part of it, but it's over now. Well, mostly over—"

"What do you mean, mostly over!" she yelled furiously, her fists clenched. She was one second away from taking a swing at him.

"Aela never took the cure." She stared at him with wild eyes, seething, looking betrayed. "Mjoll knows and made her promise that it ends with her, but she can't be cured or she'll never see Skjor again. Werewolves are taken to Hircine's Hunting Grounds at death. That was part of the reason we were so desperate to be cured, so we could go to Sovngarde like true warriors, not spend eternity as beasts, and Kodlak was there, Bryn saw him, so it worked." Lydia was still furious, and he went on in a pleading tone, "Please, sister, just listen. Mjoll knew and almost left Aela over it, but Aela showed her how it is, that she isn't, we weren't, like normal werewolves. We had control over the change, we didn't forget ourselves as much in beast form. It came directly from Hircine. The whole thing ends with Aela and Skjorta won't know until she's an adult, and even then she will never be offered the Blood. Mjoll is willing to live with it. So was Bryn. She told me—"

"I'm not Bryn!" she shouted. "I'm _nothing_ like her! What were you going to say, that she was willing to marry you while you were still cursed?"

Vilkas stated in a grieved voice, "Yes, she was. She saw me change. Me and Farkas. And she wasn't afraid." It hurt all over again to say those words. Of course no normal woman would tolerate knowing all this. Bryn hadn't been normal, and Mjoll had seen so much in her nearly twenty years of wandering Tamriel that not much fazed her, but even she had nearly left Aela.

"I'm not afraid. I'm disgusted. I was…I was sleeping with him while he was still like that!"

"He never changed or hunted even once after he started seeing you, I swear it. The one time Bryn saw him change was the last. In Dustman's Cairn." He made a sound of panic and begged, "Please, don't make Farkas pay for this. He only ever took the Blood because I did it. This doesn't change who we are, Lydia. Hate me for it if you have to, but not Farkas. He's the same person he always was. We both are. I told you all this because I didn't want you to find out from the Heart—"

"If you'd had your way, I never would have found out at all!"

"Damn straight I-" At that Lydia finally swung at him, punching him in the jaw, and he staggered back with a yell, rubbing his face, his mouth hanging open in shock and his ears ringing.

"You bastard!" she shouted, her voice breaking.

He shouted back, "What would you want me to do? Kill myself? Tell Bryn to kill us all? Think about it, why don't you! I hated what I was! Ask her next time you see her, how much I hated myself. She helped Kodlak cure us, so what were we supposed to do after that, pay for it forever? Farkas should just never marry, never have a family, because his idiot brother made a stupid choice for him? Farkas is a good man, the best man I've ever known, and I won't let you hurt him over this!" She made a sound of angry frustration and rubbed her eyes, and he said with less heat, "Blame me if you want. Farkas shouldn't have to pay for this."

"He should have told me, before we married! Before…"

"The child won't have anything wrong with it. Skjorta was conceived by two full werewolves, carried in the belly of a werewolf, and she has no taint of it on her. It doesn't carry through to children." He paused then went on, "It wasn't as if he was trying to trick you. We just wanted it to end, to be over. He went to you with a clean soul and a clean heart. I don't see how his not telling you is any kind of betrayal. When he asked you to marry him he was no longer a werewolf. You didn't marry a werewolf, a beast."

"No, I was just sleeping with one. I—" She stopped short, staring at Vilkas with sudden comprehension. "_That's_ what it was," she said in distaste. "About you." Vilkas looked away uncomfortably, his cheeks turning pink. So that was why women couldn't tolerate more than one round with him: they sensed something wrong with him. Something bestial. And of course Bryn didn't mind, because she was a damned dragon. Farkas had never shown any sign of beastblood, had never acted weird in bed, had never behaved aggressively, the only sign of any change after the cure a slightly better ability to pay attention. The difference in Vilkas though had been pronounced, but Lydia had put it down to Bryn taking Jorrvaskr in hand and the burdens off Vilkas' shoulders. The reason for it now was obvious, and it made her shudder.

"I hated it," Vilkas whispered. "You have to believe that. And Farkas only took the Blood because I told him to. We lived here our entire lives and all we ever wanted was to be part of the Circle. We didn't understand the price we would end up paying. It was why Vignar never joined, until we were cured. He knew better." He looked at her and said intently, "Please sister, I'm begging you, don't make Farkas pay for my mistake. He was clean in body and spirit when he went to you, I swear it. He never once changed after he started seeing you. All he ever wanted was a wife and a family, and—" He stopped, choking up, feeling a sudden surge of grief that brought tears to his eyes. He understood all too well now what Farkas had always wanted. The coziness. The comfort of knowing you wouldn't grow old alone, knowing that the little ones you had lavished care on would grow up to care for you one day. He suddenly understood it perfectly.

Lydia said in disbelief, "You think I would leave him over this. You really think I would do that." She couldn't bear the thought of the look on Farkas' sweet face if she wounded him like that. They were going to have a good long talk later, that was for sure, but she would never leave him. Because he was a very good man, and he did have the decency to wait until he was cured to ask her to marry him. She pointed at the door and demanded, "Open the door and let me out."

Vilkas asked warily, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going home. I don't want to be around any of you right now. Tell Farkas to come home if he asks where I am. So we can talk." Vilkas hesitated, and she threatened, "Don't make me punch you again, damn it. Go drink a potion or something, or you'll have some explaining to do."

"I just…I don't want…don't be mad with him."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Am I not allowed to get mad at my own husband? It isn't the end of the world." He stared at her with a wounded expression, with that face so much like her husband's, tears in those eyes that were just like Farkas', that it made her anger falter. She shook her head and asked, "What on earth is your problem? Is it more than…what we just talked about?" Vilkas was plenty emotional, but not prone to tears.

"Farkas has a wife and family now. It was what he always wanted."

Lydia frowned at the odd statement. "Yes. I know that. What about it? It isn't like he's going to lose that. I'm just upset right now." She huffed and added, "I shouldn't have hit you. I'm sorry."

"I just don't want anything to happen to risk what he has. He's happy."

"I see. And he has what you think you can't, and he's happy where you're not." She sighed heavily, "Why are you still dwelling on it? It's _over."_ She hated saying it, and before today she never had.

"Then why doesn't it ever feel like it is!"

"Because you won't let it."

"How the hell can I when…" He ran his fingers back through his hair and stated miserably, "I think I'm doing fine, and I start thinking maybe I can learn to live with it, then she shows up, or I hear someone talking about her, or I hear Mikael singing a song about her. Or I hear someone talking about Ulfric. Then…then last night…" He made a sound of frustration. "It's like Mara is punishing me, showing me what I can never have, what I threw away."

"You had a dream about her?" Lydia had never heard him say such a thing before. Farkas had the occasional bad dream, but after she gave him a gentle shake he went back to sleep and never remembered a thing in the morning.

Vilkas went to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. He fingered the bracelet on his wrist and explained, "It was more than a dream. I've never had a dream so detailed, so real. It was like… like a memory, but more than that. Like it was happening right then. So clear."

"Was it bad?"

"No. We were happy. We…had children." He sighed miserably and looked at his hands. "I was holding a little boy. A blond little boy, and he had his arms around my neck. He looked to be maybe two years old, hardly more than a baby himself. We were standing by a bed, and a priest was leaving, a Dunmer healer. Bryn was lying on her side with our new daughter in her hands. She said, 'Isn't she beautiful, Vilkas? She has your hair, _grohiiki_, your mouth.' Then she motioned to our son and said, 'Little cub, come see your baby sister.' I don't see how it could be just a dream; I've never heard that word before, _grohiiki._ I think it's the dragon tongue, but how can I dream a word I don't even know, something she never called me when we were together?"

Lydia whispered, "I don't know." It was eerie, the level of detail.

"And that room…I would know it in an instant if I ever set foot in it. It was perfectly real. I was standing right there, on the dais next to the bed. I've never seen a room like it before, with a wooden dais at the center that the bed stood on. There was a fireplace on the back wall, and stone columns at each corner of the room. Strange columns, with ravens' heads at the top, like nothing I've ever seen. The center of the ceiling was tall, and the room had odd windows. Slanted. Frosted. Old-style glass." He looked up at Lydia and she had gone pale, staring at him with an expression of dismay. She quickly schooled her expression and he asked, "Do you know it? Is it one of her other houses?" He had only seen Breezehome and Honeyside.

"N-no. She doesn't own any house like that." She gave him a brief smile then turned away. "I'm sure it was just a dream, Vilkas. I've got to go."

He made a sound of confused surprise but Lydia ignored it, practically fleeing the Harbinger's quarters, her heart pounding and tears stinging her eyes. There was no way Vilkas could know what Ulfric's room, Bryn's room in Windhelm, looked like. Farkas didn't know either; he hadn't had reason or opportunity to go up there, but Lydia had a couple times during the week they had stayed in Windhelm, and she hadn't described the room in any way to her husband. The room was very distinctive though, and Vilkas had described it perfectly. It didn't seem possible that he had experienced what he had, and yet something had given him that vision. She wouldn't call it a dream. And yet for that vision to come true, Ulfric would have to die. She couldn't understand why…whoever or whatever it was, a Divine, or even a Daedra, why they would give Vilkas a vision like that. There had to be a reason.

She hurried home, trying not to grieve and finding it impossible. Vilkas' dream gave her a terrible sense of foreboding. She couldn't say a word about it to Farkas, either. She couldn't really say anything to anyone. She didn't want to burden anyone else with her worries for Bryn. Not this kind of worry. There wasn't anything anyone could do about it, if it was going to happen. Maybe whatever it was that had given Vilkas the vision knew it was going to happen and had teased him with a taste of the future to keep him thinking about Bryn. Keep him interested in her. In love with her. Available to her. It seemed cruel, even if it was intended to someday give Bryn comfort. It kept Vilkas from moving on, and that was terribly unfair. But then maybe it was necessary, because who knew what Bryn would do if something happened to Ulfric and Vilkas wasn't there to turn to?

Lydia changed out of her wet clothes and was hanging them up to dry in the spare bedroom when the front door opened, and she called down, "Farkas honey, we need to have a talk. A serious talk."

"It isn't Farkas."

She made a sound of annoyance at the sound of Vilkas' voice, and she hurried downstairs, feeling more than a little uneasy that he had basically followed her here. He was pacing in front of the fire, still dressed in regular clothing, the red mark on his face healed. "What the hell are you doing here?" she asked in irritation. As if she didn't know. Not much got by him, and he was tenacious as hell when something was on his mind.

"You know that room," he said in accusation.

"I told you already: her other houses don't have a room like that."

"Yes, I heard you. So what house does?" Lydia didn't answer, probably reluctant to lie and say she didn't know. Because she damn well did know. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her tunic. "There's no purpose to you not telling me!"

"What does it matter what house?" she retorted. "How does that change anything?" Except it would.

"How does _not_ telling me change anything? How does it help in any way?" That she knew where that room was and wouldn't tell him was driving him mad. He went to her and said intently, "You have to tell me where it is, damn you!"

"It doesn't matter where it is!" she cried. "It's not like you can get in there and look at it!"

"Why? Why can't I?" Lydia nibbled at her bottom lip, and he had to resist the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. It was mean, first of all, and she was pregnant, and she would either punch him again or tell Farkas so his twin could kick his ass, or try to. "You're going to let me drive myself crazy trying to figure it out, is that it? I had that dream for a reason!" At that Lydia looked pained, almost in tears, which was even rarer for her than it was for him. He pleaded more gently, "Please sister, don't leave me like this. I can't stop thinking about it. I won't be able to stop. At least if I knew where the room was it would help me figure out what the point of that dream was."

Lydia made a sound of sorrow and looked away. He was unfortunately right about that. Her not telling him wouldn't stop Ulfric from dying, if that was fated to happen, but her telling Vilkas would give him some small peace of mind, and it would keep him from being with anyone else seriously. Keep him available to Bryn if she needed it. Lydia had to think of what was best for Bryn. And in the end, maybe it would be best for Vilkas too. Half a year the two had been separated and he was still pining for her, and unfortunately Lydia knew that Bryn still thought of him much more often than a married woman should.

"Windhelm," she finally whispered. "The Palace of the Kings." Vilkas grunted and backed away, stunned, then he shook his head as he practically stumbled to a chair by the fire and fell into it. He leaned over and put his face in his hands, and Lydia said with quiet grief, "Yes, that's what I'm afraid of too. That you saw a vision of the future, and you're with Bryn because Ulfric is dead." Vilkas made a choking sound. "The room you saw is their bedroom. The Jarl's private chambers. I've only been up there a couple times, but it's distinctive." He didn't reply. She came over and sat in the other chair, sighing, "I wish to Mara you two had sorted things out before she went to him. I promised I wouldn't say anything about it, and Bryn told me to stay out of it, but… If you're still this upset over losing her, you should have answered her letter when you had the chance." Lydia hadn't known that Bryn had sent Vilkas a letter until after she married Ulfric, when the two were sharing some quiet time, getting caught up, in the very room Vilkas had seen in his vision. Lydia had been furious with Vilkas for not even bothering to answer the letter, but Bryn had made her promise not to say anything to anyone about it, even Farkas, or to give Vilkas any grief. Well, sorry, but she had to right now.

"I never got it."

"What?!"

He grumbled and lifted his head, repeating, "I never got it." He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't tell anyone, not after his talk with Ulfric, but he had to tell someone, and Lydia was good at keeping secrets. Farkas was too forgetful, trustworthy as he was, and Lydia would do what she had to, even if it was hard. "I didn't know there even was a letter until Ulfric brought it up at the Moot. He asked why I was so angry when I'd had the chance to make things right, while she was still in Riften, and he told me about the letter, but I swear upon all that's holy that I never got any letter. If I had I would have gone to her, but it was too late by time he told me. She was already with him, and she loved him. I didn't want to force her to choose. He said he loved her and wanted to marry her, and I thought he would be better for her than me. So I told him to do it and keep the letter between us. He didn't like the deception, but he ended up going along with it, for her sake."

"Oh Vilkas," she said painfully. "What a mess." It would kill Bryn to know that he hadn't even gotten the letter. She unfortunately had to agree with Vilkas and Ulfric that it was best if she never knew at this point. Lydia really couldn't say who Bryn would have chosen if she'd found out at the time of the Moot. It was impossible to say. Having to make a choice would have completely torn Bryn up, and she would agonize over her choice afterwards for who knew how long, the way she mulled over things. Still…it would have been her choice to make, and they should have told her before Ulfric proposed. Everything might be different now.

He looked at her and said, "I told him I didn't want my happiness to come at the expense of another's, and I still mean it. If this happens…it would destroy her to lose him."

"Was she happy in your dream?"

He sighed and looked back to the fire. "Yes." Her eyes had shone as she held their daughter, and when she looked up and motioned to him and their son her smile had been purely happy. She finally had the family she had always wanted, yes, but at what cost?

"I hate to say it, but people die all the time. And there's a war coming. He's also twenty-two years older than her. Whatever happens, if it happens, it wasn't because you had the dream."

"Right," he murmured. "I know that. It's just…going to be hard to live with. Always wondering when it's going to happen."

"_If_ it's going to happen." Vilkas looked at her out of the corner of his eye then got up, shaking his head. Well, Lydia didn't really feel much hope either. Such a strong vision didn't seem likely to be just a mild possibility, and the source of it was still a complete mystery. "Vilkas, about the letter…" He turned to look at her. "She said she sent it along with the letter to me and Farkas. By the same courier."

"Then how did it get lost? Those couriers don't just forget to deliver a letter. I've never known one to fail, unless he was attacked."

"And this one wasn't, but… Do you remember those letters from 'a friend' Bryn used to get? Did she ever tell you who she thought was sending them?"

He shook his head, saying, "No, only that she had a suspicion. She received one while we were on our way to avenge Kodlak. Did she tell you who she thought it was?"

"Talos."

"Talos? You're joking!"

"She told me that she had done some research on the Nerevarine, while she was at the College of Winterhold. There are a lot of records from Morrowind there, and the Nerevarine was, is, Dunmer. Supposedly Talos appeared to him, as an avatar. The Divines do that sometimes, I've heard. What if this 'friend' was actually Talos? Who else could it be?"

Vilkas stared at her, bewildered, then he slowly said, "All right, I could see that. But how would he get hold of my letter? And why?"

"You can't see why? With Bryn being Dragonborn, destined for great things, like Tiber Septim was? And Ulfric is Talos' number one fan, other than Heimskr I guess. Ulfric is a Jarl, someone who could have become High King under the right circumstances. He was nearly a Greybeard and understands the Dragonborn and the _thu'um._ He could help Bryn reach her full potential. Help mold her into a Queen. Maybe even an Empress, someone who could rejuvenate the Empire that Tiber Septim founded with a new Dragonborn bloodline. Ulfric isn't reluctant to make war, and he's especially keen to make war on the Aldmeri Dominion." And then there had been that clap of thunder, at Bryn and Ulfric's wedding, as if Talos himself was giving his blessing to the union. She couldn't quite bring herself to tell Vilkas that.

He tried to absorb all this, seeing it but finding it appalling that a Divine would interfere in someone's life in such a way, if indeed it was true. "And I would just hold her back, is that it?" he asked. The question was mostly a rhetorical one.

"In the mind of the God of War, who knows? You like to fight, but that doesn't mean you'd want to make war, no matter what you promised Bryn."

"That promise still holds. It held before this…vision or whatever it is came along." He folded his arms and went on in confusion, "And I still don't understand where it came from."

"Maybe it really was from Mara. Two Divines can play at that game, I suppose." Lydia hated to think it, but it was Vilkas that Bryn had prayed to Mara for so long and so hard, not Ulfric. Ulfric was good to her, and even good for her, but maybe it had only been meant for a while, not forever. It was a depressing thought. Vilkas and Bryn had always seemed to be made for each other, had always seemed a perfect fit. Lydia had fully understood and supported Bryn's decision to leave Vilkas, but she had also believed they would always get back together eventually, up until the day after the Moot when Bryn had announced that Ulfric had proposed to her and she had said yes.

"I don't want Ulfric to die," Vilkas whispered. "Whatever else he may be, he's an honorable man, and Bryn loves him. I would rather be alone forever than have her lose her husband." He had been fully prepared to be alone the rest of his life before Bryn came into it. He had never wanted marriage, never wanted children, and now this!

"I'm sorry to say this, but I would rather have it that way too. But when—if—she does lose him…well, I guess… this is good to know. That you'll be there to take care of her."

Vilkas made a sound of sorrow and leaned over and kissed Lydia on top of the head. "My brother is a lucky man, you know."

"He made his own luck." Farkas had seen the life he wanted and had made it happen, and she would always be grateful to him for it, and to Mara for giving him such a sweet, pure heart. She said in mild annoyance, "I still haven't forgotten the whole werewolf thing. Don't think you can charm me out of being mad about it."

He snorted as he walked to the door. "Farkas is the one who got all the charm. I'm the one who ended up with all the problems."

Vilkas let himself out and began walking back to Jorrvaskr in the now-heavy rain, hearing distant thunder over the plains, but it was just thunder. He felt a distressing mix of depression and relief, thinking he might get Bryn back someday, yet under terrible conditions. Part of the relief came from unburdening himself to someone who he knew could be trusted implicitly, someone who Bryn trusted with her life and soul. While he trusted Farkas just as much, like it or not his brother didn't see all the complexities to the issue that Lydia could. He wasn't sure whether to be glad or not that Lydia saw the issue the same way he did. He'd half-hoped that she would tell him he was out of his mind and the dream didn't mean anything. But it did, and they both knew it. Vilkas wasn't sure how they were both going to keep the knowledge of it out of their eyes at Aela's wedding, but at least now he felt that maybe he would finally be able to look Bryn in the eye when he saw her again.

* * *

The sound of rustling in a bedroll drew Ulfric's attention from watching the entrance to the cave, and when he saw Bryn sitting up he let out a long breath of relief and went to her. It was still light out and he doubted any vampires would be attacking any time soon; their own vampire was rolled into her bedroll as far from the entrance as she could get, dead for all intents and purposes, unmoving and unbreathing. It was creepy as hell, and yet he supposed the creature's trust was flattering. He knelt at Bryn's side as she sat up cross-legged and rubbed her eyes, grimacing, then her hand lit in a golden glow of healing magic. "How do you feel?" he softly asked. She grunted and shrugged as her hand fell. "You've been asleep all day. It's late afternoon."

Bryn cracked her eyes open, still tired, her stomach rumbling. "Where are Ralof and Hadvar?" she asked.

"Hunting dinner. They should be back soon. Are you hungry?" She nodded, pulling one knee up to put her elbow on it and lean her head on her hand. She stared at the entrance, her expression unreadable. Ulfric touched her head and her eyes shifted over to him, her expression unchanging. Cold. "What do you remember?"

"A map. I need to go to Darkfall Cave. I know where it is. I went in there once, while I was working The Reach, but it had nothing of interest in it other than a few veins of ore so I went back out again." Ulfric nodded, waiting, then he sighed and turned away. She grabbed his arm before he could move away, and when he looked back at her with a wary expression she muttered, "I'm…glad you were there." That wasn't altogether true, but it had been good that he was there, from what she remembered of it.

"So am I. The young ones…I don't think they would have known what to do." He snorted and added, "Neither did I, really. Serana told me to Shout at you, to get you up." He put his hand on her cheek and stroked his thumb across her brow, looking into her eyes. "Is your vision clear again?" Bryn nodded, though she looked pained. He leaned in and kissed her softly, and she responded, to his relief. "I love you," he whispered against her lips.

"I love you too, _ahmuli."_

"Do you…ah, remember anything else?" Her expression tightened as her eyes shifted away from him, her body tensing. So she did remember. It was…unfortunate. He gently grasped her chin in his hand and stated, "I would have this in the open between us, Brynhilde."

"Which part? My becoming Empress, or my having children with Vilkas?" Ulfric didn't flinch, though she regretted the words right after they left her mouth.

"Both." She launched to her feet with a growl that he could nearly feel. He got to his feet and followed her as she stalked toward the entrance of the cave. "You can't avoid this," he said sternly. "You can't pretend you didn't see it."

"I didn't just see it," she hissed, turning on him, though he didn't flinch back. "I felt it. Felt her, in my hands. I could smell her, hear her tiny breaths. I could feel the memory of my whole body aching from giving birth to her, even after the healer left. I was _there_."

"Where?"

"I don't know. All I know was that I saw her, then I looked up and saw him. Them." Vilkas staring at her with the most intense love in his eyes, and clinging to him was a blond little boy, his face hidden in Vilkas' neck, his arms around it. She choked and ground the heels of her hands into her eyes, feeling the beginnings of a scream bubbling up inside her, then she felt Ulfric's hands grabbing her wrists to pull her hands down. _"Zu'u los daanik! Nid filok!"_ she cried.

"No," he said firmly. She stared at him with an expression of panic, and when he felt her begin to pull away he tightened his grip on her wrists and pulled her back. "No! You will stay and face this, Brynhilde. _We_ will face this."

"I can't! Don't you understand what it means?"

"What it could mean. The future is never set in stone—"

"Mine was! In Alduin's Wall!"

"And that future is now the past, over and done, and it wasn't altogether correct, was it, with its male Dragonborn. What you saw in the Dragon Scroll was only a possibility." Bryn shook her head and tried to pull away again but he hauled her back. "So, what if it does happen? Anyone could die at any time. I could slip going down the steps in Windhelm on an ordinary errand and crack my head and it would be over." She stared at him in open-mouthed horror, and he cursed himself for not thinking before he spoke. "All I am saying is that I don't want you living under a cloud of doom for the rest of our lives. Whatever the Scrolls told you, it isn't as if seeing it will make it happen. You won't make it happen simply by seeing it. I don't intend to live my life any differently than before, and I hope you won't either."

"Live my life," she said in despair. "When have I been able to just live my life? When! When does the life I was supposed to have start?"

"You're nearly there. Find that bow and get rid of Serana's father—"

Bryn quickly yanked her hands away before he could stop her, saying, "It's always something. Something I have to finish before I can have what I want, but there's always something more after that!"

He said with extreme patience, "We will have our time together after you are done with the vampires. You promised the people of Skyrim that you would do this for them. The attacks have gotten worse since you started this. You know that." She turned her back on him with a sound of irritation and looked outside, folding her arms. It had been raining heavily all day but was now starting to taper off. He moved up behind her and quietly stated, "You knew when you became High Queen that you would have little time of your own. You knew you would belong to the people. That is the way of all who are born to rule, if they truly care about those under their protection." He hesitated then went on, "I have not done what I should have in that regard. I hope you would do better than I have." She didn't answer, but didn't protest either. She knew what she had to do and was simply letting out her frustrations. He put his arms around her waist and laid his head against hers, still finding it odd at times that he had a woman tall enough to do that with. She huffed but put her arms over his.

"I don't want anything to happen to you!"

"If it does or not, it would have happened regardless." He lifted his head and kissed by her ear then said, "You may have given me more time, more life, than I would have had. We both know you wouldn't have stayed out of the civil war forever. If you were forced to make a choice between the Stormcloaks and the Empire, we both know that in the end you would have chosen the Empire. It would have ended in my death, and probably Galmar's as well. You had your sympathy for me, but that wouldn't have stayed your hand when it came down to it, because my death is the only thing that would have ended the civil war. By coming to me the way you did, with the dossier, you changed what might have been previously destined to happen." Bryn whimpered and turned in his arms to put hers around his neck, and he held her tightly. "You're more precious to me than anything. Believe me that I won't let anything happen to me that would cause you pain." He felt her nod.

He wished they had the time and privacy for him to comfort her more fully, perhaps loll about in those hot pools afterwards, but they were both fully armored, and the young men were due back any moment. He didn't have the freedom to continue on her adventures with her, having come this far only to help her keep her sanity during the reading of the Elder Scrolls, but they would have their moments together on the way back to Windhelm. She would need to get rid of the Scrolls, so they would stop in Riften on the way to Fort Dawnguard and spend the night in her charming, cozy house there, then spend another night together in Windhelm before she set off for Winterhold to drop off the Dragon Scroll back at the College. He didn't see how this entire quest could take much longer, with Auriel's Bow nearly in Bryn's grasp. Once she had that it should only be a matter of finding a way to dispatch Harkon, then they would be able to live as a proper married couple for a while before the next inevitable crisis cropped up. Because it always did. It was naïve of Bryn to think she could be Dragonborn and High Queen and have her life be a simple, easy one. Whether she had asked for this life or not, it was hers.


	46. Chapter 46

Bryn slowly walked up the steps to the final Wayshrine, and when she shook her head and looked back at Gelebor the ancient Snow Elf was watching her with a quizzical expression. "You hesitate, Champion," he stated. "One would think after the trials you went through to gain it that you would be more eager to claim your prize. You now hold Auri-El's Shield. Take his bow as well."

"I came here to keep the bow out of the hands of others, not specifically to gain it for myself," she answered. How she wanted it though. Coveted it. She wanted the bow more than she ever lusted after the glass armor once upon a time. The bow spun slowly above its pedestal, surrounded by sparkling motes, gleaming softly in gold and dark silver, the silver embossed with a slight vining texture, a weapon of such incredible beauty and obvious power that it took her breath away. It made her dragonbone bow look barbaric and clunky. And the shield…it was gorgeous. It was seriously making her consider going back to using a shield. Frankly she was going to need one when she fought the Dominion, and she did take more damage when she double-wielded. She wasn't sure what the shield's power was, but it surely had one. Better to find out what it was before the war started.

"Yet another sign, in my mind, that you are worthy of possessing it." Bryn frowned at him, then grimaced and shook her head, looking back to the bow. Confused, Gelebor asked, "Do you fear the bow's power?"

"Not at all. However I do fear its master's retribution once I put both items to their intended use."

"Auri-El allowed you to find them. I think your fears unfounded."

"I'm taking this bow and shield to war one day, Gelebor. Against Elves." She heard his sharp intake of breath. "I assume most of the pilgrims who have come to you over the centuries have been mer. Have they kept you up to date on what goes on in the outside world?"

"Yes, to some extent."

"Have you gotten any coming through recently?"

He hesitated before simply answering, "Yes."

"So you know about the new Aldmeri Dominion, then. The Thalmor. Have any Thalmor come to visit you?"

"Yes, a few. None have returned. Clearly Auri-El does not favor their objectives." Bryn finally turned back to look at him, with those eerie eyes that he couldn't place. He knew of no race of Man or Mer that possessed such purely golden eyes. The girl was as tall as an Altmer, but powerfully built like the Men of the North, and she had their coloring, though her hair was as soft and fine as one of his own kind. He glanced at the two young males who stood off to the side, silent, clearly Sons of the Snow, as even the vampire maiden was, but he couldn't figure out what the creature in front of him was, now that he was taking the time to truly observe her. He never paid much attention to those who passed through his domain, knowing their end would always be the same. He wished he had paid more attention to this…person. She had a rather odd voice as well. Resonant, as if she had studied with Masters of the Voice, but she looked much, much too young to have reached the point of her speaking voice changing.

"My lady," Serana murmured, deeply uncomfortable with the way Bryn and Gelebor were staring at each other. There was no threat on either side, but Serana wasn't sure just what the ancient Knight-Paladin was capable of. That he was still alive at all after so many thousands of years meant he was nothing to fool around with. Bryn languidly moved her gaze to Serana, who said, "Maybe if you told him who you are…"

Bryn hesitated, and Ralof raised his voice and said with pride, "Our lady is the High Queen of Skyrim, and Dragonborn."

Gelebor whispered in shock, "Dragonborn!" Bryn slowly nodded and looked away at the surrounding mountains, a weary expression on her face. "But…that means you are a child of Auri-El himself. Of Akatosh, by the name you know him." He moved closer to her and urged, "Take the bow."

Bryn warned him again, "I will use it against mer."

"From what the mer who have come through my domain over the last century have told me, you would be justified in doing so."

"Why is that?"

"They seek to unmake the world. Even after all these ages, too many of them resent our loss of divinity, of immortality. They seek to rejoin Aetherius, permanently."

Bryn shook her head, appalled. Paarthurnax had hinted at such a thing, that her birth balanced the odds against those who sought to prematurely end the world, but she hadn't thought too hard about it at the time, too overwhelmed by everything for the comment to do more than stick at the back of her mind. Well it certainly made sense now. "I destroyed Alduin. That will not be happening as long as I or my descendants exists." If she ever had descendants. Her mind's eye still drifted back to those two sweet babies when she let it. Which she did her best not to. If she did she might start screaming again, and Ulfric wasn't here to contain her this time. Her husband's lack of concern about her vision was still bewildering to her. She would never understand the Nord view of death, even though she had seen Sovngarde. She was in no hurry to go there one second before she absolutely had to, or leave behind those she loved. An eternity of singing, boasting and feasting sounded incredibly dull to her. She had always enjoyed the parties at Jorrvaskr, but she didn't want an endless afterlife of that.

"Once again, another sign that you were meant to have the bow. If Auri-El himself gifted you at birth with the blood of dragons, with the soul of a dragon, then he wished to put a stop to Alduin, and the machinations of the Aldmeri Dominion, and therefore does not wish this world to end." He shook his head and said in sorrow, "It is the greatest arrogance of all, to assume one knows the mind of a Divine, without the Divine giving you any sign that is so. Your existence should be warning enough to these deluded mer that they are on a wrongful path."

Bryn snorted a humorless laugh. "Deluded. Yes, an apt term for them. They refuse to even acknowledge that Martin Septim was the being who permanently closed the Oblivion Gates." She still wondered if they honestly believed that they had done so, or if they were just playacting to achieve their objectives. Bryn didn't doubt that the Thalmor had gone in and closed a great many of the Gates in the Summerset Isles, as House Redoran had done in Morrowind, something the Hero of Kvatch had accomplished single-handedly in Cyrodiil. The thought of him made her heart ache as she heard the Dragon Scroll's words and saw its images whisper through her mind again. She could only begin to imagine the depth of grief that would drive the man to give up his sanity and become Sheogorath as a way to forget his loss and the horror of seeing his lover become an Avatar of Akatosh before his eyes, sacrificing himself for his people as any true ruler would. After the dozens of Gates he had closed, the horrors he had seen, and the intense love he and Martin had shared in what stolen moments they had, insanity must have seemed a relief. Well, she would never have that refuge. If she hadn't gone mad by now, she never would, and unfortunately if she did go completely mad it would probably be Pelinal Whitestrake style.

"Ah. Yes. Well, I spent little time in debate with the mer who passed through my realm recently. My existence seemed to embarrass them. Perhaps it uncomfortably reminded them that even the proudest race of mer can be brought low, even driven to extinction."

"I will not be committing genocide, I assure you. I have a large number of friends and acquaintances among all the mer. I'm half-Altmer myself."

Gelebor's pale eyebrows rose, then he murmured, "There is a lesson in that, I think." So that was why the girl was so bizarrely tall, and her hair so pale and fine, but no race of mer he knew of had eyes like that. He wasn't about to be so rude as to inquire about it, either.

"I think if there is, it will escape them."

"Nothing is impossible. Even the Divines can change their minds, given enough time and incentive. Auri-El personally led the mer against the forces of Lorkhan, Shor, in retribution against his trickery in bringing about the creation of the mortal plane, fighting with that very bow and shield, however once he ascended back to Aetherius that war ended. Mer should be striving to create the Divine within themselves, instead of destroying Mundus. They should be attempting to learn the lessons this existence can teach them. Perhaps you will be the one to teach them this lesson, finally. Change does not come quickly, or easily, for mer, unless it is forced on us." He gestured toward the Wayshrine and said, "Please, Dragonborn, take Auri-El's Bow, and use it as you will. If he disapproves of your use of his artifacts, they will simply leave your custody, as they have done with others, and return here."

Bryn let out a long breath as she nodded and turned away, taking the final steps into the Wayshrine. She didn't fear much, but a Divine's retribution was nothing to sneer at. She wiggled her fingers, hesitating, then she plucked the bow out of the air. She caressed the moonstone-crafted weapon, delighted by how light it was, about half the weight of her dragonbone bow, though it was just as tall, a true longbow. The metal was warm, almost alive, in a way the shield wasn't. She heard the soft whisper of fabric behind her, Serana's cloak, and Bryn murmured, "Isn't it lovely? Truly fit for a god."

"Or the chosen of one." Bryn snorted at that and turned to look at her, and the vampire girl gazed at the weapon with one eyebrow lifted then said, "It's ah…not as shiny as I was expecting. Still, it is beautiful."

"Quite, though my armor feels a bit dull now between this, the shield and my swords. Oh well." She slung the bow over her shoulder and asked, "What now?"

"I think we both know, my Queen: it's time to face my father. If we don't, he'll keep chasing us for the rest of our lives."

Bryn nodded slowly and murmured, "You realize he'll have to die."

Serana looked pained. "I've been thinking about this for a long time, my lady. It's…it's not easy. But I don't think we have much of a choice."

"None, actually."

"This has to end here and now."

Seeing the other woman was honestly distressed, Bryn laid her hands on her shoulders, seeing Serana's eyes widen a bit in surprise at the touch. "Then we'll face him together, my friend," Bryn vowed. "All four of us." Serana hesitated then smiled slightly, her fangs not showing, not that Bryn minded if they did. She was so used to Serana now that she hardly noticed her nature. The vampire was extremely discreet in how she fed and swore she had never infected anyone, and she didn't seem to need to feed often, maybe because she was a pure-blooded Daughter of Coldharbour. Serana had a sadness to her that never seemed to really leave, one that made Bryn feel a bit self-absorbed at times, and Serana had been a bit of a complainer at first, but she had been a loyal, dependable follower, and even Ralof and Hadvar seemed to trust her. She had provided much-needed female company on the road, though there were certain things she could never relate to Bryn with, such as having a monthly cycle and wanting children, though she tried to be sympathetic in her awkward way and was a good listener.

"Friend," Serana said in a wondering tone. "It's sad, I…don't think I've ever had one. Not even when I was a little girl."

"Well you have one in me."

"Even though I'm…you know?"

"Yes, even so, if you don't mind what I am either." Serana stared at her in mild dismay then laughed slightly, realizing it was a joke. Mostly. At least Serana had had a choice in becoming what she was, even if it hadn't been much of one. "So, should we get this done so we can go on with our lives, such as they are?" The process of finding the bow had been a welcome distraction from the doom she felt hanging over her, or more accurately hanging over her husband. The trip home after reading the Scrolls had been stressful, both of them almost glad to part ways in Windhelm, awful as that was. Ulfric had tried to be supportive, in his own way, but she hadn't made it easy for him, in fact she had worn him out; he hadn't gotten angry with her, but he had basically given up trying to cheer her up. She hoped when she saw him again that she would be able to look at him and not think about his potentially impending death. Somehow he would know, able to read her like a book, and it would make him rather grumpy.

Serana grimaced and said gravely, "If we go to the castle now and kick the front door in, we're going to be knee deep in Father's friends. Let's head back to Isran and let him see what we've found first. I'm betting he'll lend us a sword or two, maybe even go with us."

"Yes…"

"But?"

"I'm due at a wedding in a week and a half, in Riften. I'm not going to miss it, and it will take a good five or six days to get home to Windhelm, even at a brisk pace." She could shave a day off that by taking a boat along the northern coast, but she didn't think she could tolerate spending that amount of time in a small skiff. Going into the water in full armor was just asking to drown, and she wasn't about to risk it, for herself or Ralof and Hadvar. She glanced at the young men and they were actually talking quietly to each other. Companionably. She looked away from them before they caught her, but it warmed her heart to see it. She and Rikke had both known that eventually the two would start getting along, maybe even become friends, and what all four of them had been through in the last couple weeks had certainly gone a long way towards that. Saving a person's life then having them return the favor had a way of melting the most stubborn ice.

"A wedding," Serana said thoughtfully. "I don't think I've ever seen one of those."

"I'll tell you about mine on our way home."

Serana asked in disbelief, "You're…taking me with you? To Windhelm?"

"Yes, I am. I won't have you traveling across Skyrim back to Fort Dawnguard alone, with gods know how many vampire assassins running around out there. You can come to Windhelm with us and stay until we leave for the wedding, then travel with us to Riften and we'll part ways there. I'll be staying there for a few days for the wedding and to visit with friends, maybe do a little smithing, then the three of us will meet up with you again at the Fort. It will take Isran and his people a few days to get ready, I'm sure."

"Knowing him, he'll be ready to go the moment you say the word."

"He's going to have to wait for that word. I swore to my friends that I would be at that wedding, and by Mara I will. But once I'm done in Riften the three of us will return to Fort Dawnguard and get you and Isran so we can finish this once and for all. And after that is out of the way, you and I will be returning to the Soul Cairn to get your mother out. Maybe with your father gone you two can fix things."

Serana stared at her for a moment, blinking, then she whispered, "You would do that. For me."

"Yes, I will. Now that we've been through it once I think I'll be able to navigate more easily the next time, and I'll know what to expect when we come out, and I'll be able to rest there in the castle and have Ralof and Hadvar nearby." She smiled at Serana, who gazed at her with tearful gratitude. "I know this will be hard, but we'll get everything taken care of, I promise."

"I believe you, my Queen." She took a deep breath and said, "You know, they used to call Windhelm 'the City of Kings'. In my books anyway."

"They'll call it that again one day, if I have my way."

* * *

"Huh. I had expected Ysgramor's city to be... bigger."

Bryn snorted a laugh and said, "Well, it can only grow so much within the walls." As they walked past Candlehearth Hall she murmured, "Watch the steps. Many of them are broken or out of whack."

"It's surprising that the city's been allowed to fall into disrepair like this. Aren't there the funds to maintain it?" Bryn didn't answer right away, and Serana hastily added, "No offense, my Queen."

Bryn sighed and put her arm through Serana's, and the vampire stiffened a bit then relaxed into the touch. It was still slow going there, but Serana was getting better. "No, it's all right," she soothed. "Yes, it is surprising that this has been allowed, and more surprising still that I haven't done anything about it yet."

"Well...you've been busy."

"Yes, but I could have set someone on the task. I'll have to look into it once the wedding is out of the way. This city is mine now, nearly as much as it is Ulfric's, more in some ways. If he isn't going to fix it, I will." She was sure that Ulfric didn't even notice the problems; they hadn't cropped up overnight, and she had never mentioned them. She patted Serana's shoulder and went on, "I'm glad you brought this up, Serana. It's easy to get used to things when they've always been that way. Sometimes it takes an objective eye to see the problems."

"Speaking of problems...your, um, husband..."

Bryn grumbled and said, "Yes. He won't be happy I'm bringing you here. He won't be happy at all."

"Is he ever happy?" Bryn looked at her in surprise, and she grimaced and muttered, "There I go again. My Queen. I'm sorry."

"I think that's enough of that," Bryn said with regret. "I went overboard when I yelled at you and told you to call me that. Not that you shouldn't, but you needn't be so afraid of offending me. I was scared to death when I yelled at you. You were a convenient target." She paused then said, "Yes, Ulfric's often happy. He's been very good to me, the short time we've been together. But he has...a complicated past. He was a prisoner of war, of the Thalmor, and they tortured him horribly. It took time to earn his trust, but I could sense that he was a good man, that there was hope for him. Much like I sensed with you." She took a deep breath then said, "Yes, he's going to be unhappy, but he won't turn you out. He'd better not, anyway." She was actually rather apprehensive about how her husband was going to react. As long as Serana kept her hood up it was difficult to tell that she was a vampire unless you got close to her. She had already promised not to do anything in the city that might cause problems. Bryn was really going to have to confront her one day about the possibility of getting cured. Her and Valerica. The power gained hardly seemed worth the isolation, and Bryn couldn't in good conscience allow her subjects to be fed upon.

It was mid-afternoon and the Palace was mostly empty, though she could hear Galmar's gravelly voice in the war room. She headed that direction, feeling Serana tensing up next to her, the vampire's body as hard as steel. Bryn really wasn't sure which of the two of them was stronger, and hoped she never had to find out. Jorleif was nowhere to be seen, and when Bryn peeked into the war room she saw Galmar and Ulfric poring over a detailed map of Eastmarch, laid over the map of Skyrim; Rikke was at the table near the back of the room, sorting out papers. Bryn cleared her throat and all three started, glancing up. Ulfric began to smile then he saw his wife's companion and his lips pursed as his eyes narrowed. "Hello darling, I brought a friend home for a little bit," she said carefully, her tone pleasant but under laid with the warning not to fuss about this.

"I...see," Ulfric stated. He stayed where he was, unsure of what to do, feeling his temper rise that he couldn't greet his wife properly after being separated for several weeks. She let go of Serana and went to him, and he grunted as she kissed his cheek. When she pulled back to look in his eyes he quietly said, "I hope you know what you are doing." He glanced at the vampire and she was watching them with her head tilted sideways, as if she was observing something strange but only mildly interesting. She suddenly dropped her eyes, seeming to sense his annoyance with her staring.

"Yes, quite. We've been attacked a number of times by vampire assassins. I wasn't about to force her to travel cross-country alone." Ulfric relaxed slightly at that and nodded, understanding the necessity of it. Bryn glanced at Galmar and he was staring at Serana with wide eyes and a wrinkled nose, his entire body stiff, and he flinched and made a sound of dismay as Rikke touched his arm, startling him.

"Hello Serana," Rikke said in greeting.

Serana kept her eyes lowered as she replied, "Hello, Rikke. I hope you're doing well."

"Yes, I am, thank you." She patted Galmar and gave him a look of warning then went to Bryn, smiling at the two young Guards on the way. She squeezed her Queen's upper arm and said in a happy, intense voice, "You got the bow."

Ralof grinned and countered, "Did you think we wouldn't?"

"Watch it, pup," Galmar warned, making Ralof roll his eyes and Hadvar laugh quietly.

Bryn slung the bow off her back and held it out to Rikke, saying, "The bow allegedly wielded by Auriel himself in battle against Shor."

"Amazing," Rikke breathed, taking the bow from her, then she grimaced and quickly handed it back. "It's ah, warm." As if it was alive. It was extremely unsettling, but by the Nine it was beautiful.

"Yes, and look at what else we found." She motioned to Hadvar who handed over the shield. "Auriel's Shield as well."

"Shor's bones," Ulfric said in wonder. Bryn handed it to him and he took it with wide eyes, not quite able to bring himself to believe that both the shield and bow were artifacts of a god. The shield weighed about the same as his ebony Shield of Eastmarch, but it was the opposite in looks and color, seeming crafted of sun- and moonlight, gold and argent, the silver embossed with a vining Elven pattern as the bow was. He ran his hand over the pattern as he asked, "What are their powers? The bow has something to do with the sun, I assume. The prophecy." He glanced at his wife and her expression suddenly tightened. Well, he hadn't forgotten about what she had seen in that cave, even if she had been busy enough to keep it out of mind.

"The shield stores the energy of the blows it absorbs," she stated. "I tested it on the way home. The more blows it absorbs, the more power it stores, then it can be released by bashing. It creates a shockwave much like Unrelenting Force."

"Ah. That could prove useful in the war."

"Yes, I'm going to switch back to using a shield for that. The bow though..." She held it up again, watching the light play over its surface, still finding it a marvel. She softly stated, "It was with this very bow that Auriel shot Shor's heart into the sea, and there rose Red Mountain." She saw Ulfric, Rikke and Galmar shiver at that, and the thought still sent goose bumps over her skin. "Supposedly it channels power directly from Aetherius, through the sun, adding fire damage to any arrow it shoots, but it's with blessed Elven arrows that it really shines, so to speak. I haven't tested that yet, because of Serana. It's bad enough she keeps catching the backlash from Dawnbreaker." She kissed the bow then returned it to her back, totally in love with the weapon. She was going to try tempering it before they left for Riften in a couple days. With enchanted smithing gear and a strong potion the bow would be rendered so insanely powerful that she would be able to take down most dragons with half a dozen hits or less. Not that she was eager to take down any more. She was starting to feel more than a little full these days.

Ralof said in an excited tone, "And you will never guess what we found, my lord: Snow Elves!

"You're shitting me," Galmar said in disbelief, then he narrowed his eyes at the young men and added, "You'd better not be pulling my leg, boy."

Hadvar solemnly stated, "It's no joke, sir. Only one is left, that he knows of. And we fought dragons that came up out of a frozen lake. The Queen called an undead dragon to the fight, Durnehviir. We saw frost giants. The wonders never ceased in that place."

"Well then, sounds as if you have tales to tell. You lads go clean up and rest before dinner and we'll hear it all then. Yrsarald won't want to miss it." The two young men nodded, bowed to the Queen, then headed upstairs, and as the door fell shut behind them he could hear them talking happily with each other as they went up the stairs, and when he glanced at Rikke he saw her beaming at the closed door. He knew it was something she had wanted for them, to set aside old hurts and political differences, and it seemed they had. Galmar was certainly pleased by it; it only made the two Queen's Guards more effective at their jobs if they got along. He then looked at the vampire girl, unable to help feeling a swell of disgust as he looked at her, and Ulfric was doing his best to not look at all. When he looked at Bryn she was gazing at him with her chin lifted, daring him to refuse offering the creature hospitality. Well if Ulfric hadn't denied it then it wasn't his place to do so either. He grunted, "So."

"Yes Galmar?" Bryn prompted. The older man scratched the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable, and she rolled her eyes. "Serana will stay at Candlehearth Hall tonight. I know there's no room here. She already promised on her own to...behave herself in the city, and her word is good enough for me."

Galmar nodded, though he still looked troubled, and Ulfric sighed, "All right then." His wife smiled at him in approval, and he sighed again. Serana inclined her head politely, and Ulfric nodded, trying not to make a face of distaste. He could tolerate this for a couple days. It was only a couple days. A couple of days with a vampire in his city, and a couple of days until they set out for Riften, where he had to somehow tolerate looking at Vilkas and knowing that Bryn was thinking about the man. She had never really stopped, but seeing the Harbinger standing there would make things harder. Ulfric could only hope that they managed to get through the whole experience without some kind of ugliness cropping up. It was a thin hope, to be sure.

* * *

**A/N: I play with these lovely mods by Den987 on Skyrim Nexus: Auriels Bow Gold and Argent Retexture, and Auriels Shield Gold and Argent Retexture. Beautiful!**

**And wow, just over 15,000 views! At the risk of sounding like a broken record, thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and following and reviewing. It really makes this all worth it.**


	47. Chapter 47

Vilkas felt Lydia squeeze his arm as they walked through Riften's gates, and he gave his sister-in-law a brief grateful smile. The Guards greeted them enthusiastically, rare as it was for nearly every Companion to be out of Jorrvaskr at the same time, and in the same place. Vignar stayed behind as usual to keep an eye on things with Brill, though it had to be lonely there with Tilma gone. She had passed away only a few days before they left Whiterun, so the grief was still fresh for everyone. Lydia had left the Heart at Jorrvaskr, locked up and hidden in Vilkas' quarters, Tilma having warned her to never take it any farther than Whiterun's gates or it might lose its connection to the mead hall.

After leaving his gear in Aerin and Mjoll's house, which was opened up to air it out, Vilkas braced himself and headed to the marketplace, going around the backside of the Bee and Barb to look at Honeyside on the way. A brown-haired Nord in steel plate was standing guard at the door and Vilkas assumed it was Hadvar. He was shorter than Ralof but more heavily built, still average height for a Nord male, and he gave off an air of competence that Ralof didn't seem capable quite yet of pulling off. Ralof was quite a good warrior, certainly, but spending nearly ten years in the Legion gave one the kind of experience and maturity that couldn't be replicated.

The young man noticed Vilkas, something that wasn't hard to do, and smiled broadly and nodded his head, calling out, "Hail, Harbinger!" By Talos the man was an impressive sight, taller than most Nords by half a head and dressed in softly gleaming vintage ebony plate, a bar of black warpaint across his eerily pale gray eyes. Vilkas nodded in greeting, and after hesitating came over, pausing briefly on the bridge to look down into the open canal, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "It's progress, yeah?" Hadvar asked.

"Yes, markedly so." He looked out towards the lake and saw a few rowboats out there but couldn't make out who the occupants were. The pervading stench that had lingered over the city for years was gone, and he had seen repairs and improvements to many of the buildings and walkways, including some decorative paint on the houses that would have been unthinkable just six months ago.

When Vilkas reached him Hadvar held out his hand and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harbinger."

"Likewise. Hadvar, is it?" The young man nodded. He had one hell of a grip, though it didn't seem to be deliberate. It was incredibly annoying when other men purposefully did that, and only proved how insecure they were. As he let go Vilkas asked, "How goes the war against the vampires?"

Hadvar said with a broad smile, "Making good headway. Our lady Queen has dealt them a deadly blow by taking away the weapon they sought. In a few days we'll be heading to Castle Volkihar with a band of Dawnguard soldiers to finish this once and for all."

"That's…fantastic." He was actually a bit envious. For all his talk early on of the Companions not being adventurers, the thought of trying it out just once was appealing.

Hadvar shook his head and said in a wry tone, "Fantastic…if I could only describe the things I've seen, fantastic wouldn't even begin to capture it. I'll be glad though when this business is done. It hasn't been easy on anyone." It wasn't his place to say how hard it had been, and on who. It really wasn't any of Vilkas' business, or anyone else's but Ulfric's, and the people who had been there. The Queen had seemed in decent spirits since gaining the bow however, and she had rewarded Hadvar and Ralof richly before they left Windhelm with a large portion of the gold and gems she had picked up during their adventures, beyond what the two men themselves had found on their own. Both of them had been slightly appalled by it, but she had impressed on them that they were expected to keep up their own gear and would have related expenses, which had made it easier to accept. Hadvar had his own room now, since at some point while they were gone Rikke had moved in with Galmar, who had made it clear that anyone with a smart comment about it would get their head knocked in. Ralof had actually seemed a bit sad about Hadvar moving out. Well, Hadvar had been a bit too. It was kind of funny, really.

"I can only imagine."

"If you want to say hello to our lady, she's over at the forge. Unwinding, she says." Vilkas laughed at his wry tone of voice, though he had a pained expression on his face as he looked across the canal to see Bryn pounding away at something on Balimund's anvil. Ralof had filled in Hadvar about that entire business between Bryn and Vilkas, what he knew of it, but Hadvar didn't find it threatening the way Ralof did. The Queen and the Harbinger couldn't go through life avoiding each other, and each exposure would make the next encounter easier to bear, or so Hadvar and Rikke thought.

"I ah, suppose I should." He was about to make a comment about her being unguarded, but she was within Hadvar's direct line of sight, and who know where Ralof or Iona were. He gave Hadvar a brief smile and said, "It was good to meet you. I would like to hear some stories of your adventures some time."

"I'll make sure to do that, sir."

Vilkas nodded and walked away, not giving himself time to reconsider. He had to talk to her now, before the wedding tomorrow, to get it out of the way. To see if he could manage it. Everything had changed since that vision, both for the good and the bad, making it alternately easier and harder to contemplate being around her. He didn't feel so alone now that he had confided in Lydia and had her advice and back-up on the matter. The shared secret and Vilkas telling her about the Circle's secret had brought him and his sister-in-law closer, something he cherished. At least the revelation hadn't done any lasting harm to Farkas' marriage; Lydia had scolded her husband something fierce once they talked about it, later that same night, but she had lost her fire by then and had had hours to think about it. Farkas had been furious with Vilkas for telling her but had admitted later that he was relieved that it was in the open. Aela didn't know, and Lydia hadn't treated her any differently, which Vilkas was grateful for.

He stopped at the corner of the building, scanning the area, and saw Iona nearby, leaning on the low rock wall that surrounded the central marketplace. She frowned slightly upon seeing him but nodded courteously then looked away. Vilkas could see the air about town was different, more cheerful. He could hear the children in the Orphanage happily playing, a welcome sound, and resolved to stop by and leave a donation. He had to admit that he was grateful to Jergen for taking them back to Jorrvaskr with him instead of leaving them in Grelod's 'care'. He shuddered to think how he and Farkas would have turned out growing up under her cruel hand.

When the sound of hammering stopped he turned his attention back to Bryn, and he felt a jolt of adrenaline run through him to see her standing stock still, staring at him with a deeply sorrowful expression. She looked decidedly unqueenly, her fair hair tightly pulled back into a bun and bound across her forehead with a strip of leather, smears of soot across her nose and cheeks that he ached to wipe off, always finding her grubbiness at the forge terribly cute. She was wearing leather pants and a sleeveless tunic that showed arms that were much more muscular than the last time he had seen them bare, the morning she had left him, and over it was a leather blacksmith's apron that shimmered faintly with magic, as did her thick leather gloves and the silver amulet around her neck, and several potions were lined up nearby on the bench. He hadn't realized she smithed with enchanted gear and wondered when that had started. Eorlund would have turned his nose up at it, disdaining the use of magic in his smithing just as the Companions did with their gear, Mjoll's Grimsever the only enchanted weapon among the group. Lydia's arms and armor were all enchanted but she wasn't considered an official Companion. Vilkas thought he might have to do something about that after the baby was born.

When Vilkas bowed slightly to her but still held her gaze, Bryn asked in a tense voice, "What are you doing here?" Gods above, the man was gorgeous. Looking at him made it feel like a rusty blade was being dragged across her heart. He was looking her in the eyes. Actually looking at her. Intently. Longingly. It didn't help matters at all. Not one bit.

"I'm here for Aela's wedding." He saw her grip tighten on the hammer and the chunk of ebony she was working, then she turned away and shoved it back into the coals. He moved to the other side of the pole that held the bellows rope, saying, "That wasn't funny, was it."

"No, it wasn't." She folded her arms, letting the hammer dangle from her wrist by its leather strap, and stared at the fire, though she was unable to block out the huge blot of black on the edge of her vision. She couldn't imagine why on Nirn he was here, alone, talking to her. Looking her in the eye. She glanced up at him and he gazed back with a calm but sad gaze, and there was something in his eyes that perplexed and unsettled her. Something had changed. The warpaint was a new design, and more flattering than the…whatever it was he and Farkas used to wear. It was absolutely evil how beautiful he was. "Is everyone else here?" They had damn well better be.

"Yes, opening up the house and getting it cleaned up. The basement is full of skeever shit." At that she snorted a laugh, and it made him smile. It was good to see her laugh, if only a little.

"I haven't been very good about checking on the place," she admitted. "Mjoll didn't leave a key, but I could have picked the lock easily enough, I suppose."

"Yes, as the only remaining thief in Riften you have a monopoly now on crime." She laughed merrily at that, warming him. Mjoll had told the story of her and Bryn's assault on the Thieves Guild many nights in Jorrvaskr. It was a good story. He nodded towards the forge and asked, "What are you making this time?"

"A dragonbone dagger." She lowered her voice and murmured, "The Emperor is visiting soon. To see me. I thought I would give it to him. As a gift." She hesitated then added, "Only a few people know about his visit."

"No one will hear it from me."

"What are you really doing here, Vilkas?"

The swift change in subject startled him, and when she looked up at him she had a hurt expression on her face, not caring who saw it, and it was a given that plenty of people were watching, even if they couldn't hear. Screw them. He quietly stated, "I came to see you, and that's all. I…" Missed her. Grieved what they had lost. Grieved that she might lose Ulfric someday, and he couldn't tell her any of it. "I want peace between us, Brynhilde," he murmured. He saw the faintest shudder go through her as he said her name.

"Peace. Hasn't there been peace?"

"Has there been, truly?" he countered. "I haven't handled things well, I admit that, but…I want it to be better."

She closed her eyes for a moment then looked at the fire, glowing deep orange and red, fed with a gift of fresh fire salts. Things between her and Balimund were as comfortable as ever, the simple, plain-spoken smith understanding that his forge was a refuge to her, as was his undemanding friendship. Things with Vilkas though…they could never be simple. He wasn't simple. Neither was Ulfric. She loved that about both of them. "That would be nice," she murmured, "however I don't think it's a good idea to make a habit of doing this." It was also completely impossible at this point. Being around him was nearly intolerable now. Half of her wanted to throw herself into his arms, and the other half wanted to smack him senseless for not marrying her when he had the chance and leaving her at risk now of losing Ulfric, when by all rights she never should have loved Ulfric at all.

"I didn't intend to, but…I just wanted to see you again." She nodded slowly, a look of such deep pain crossing her face that he nearly asked her what was wrong. "Are you going to the wedding party? Ulfric is welcome there, and Hadvar and Ralof and Iona." Bryn grimaced, suddenly looking close to tears, swallowing hard as she reached down to check the ebony then shoved it in the coals again and began pumping the bellows. "Tell me you'll be there," Vilkas insisted. "Aela and Mjoll would be upset if you didn't go."

"And I may spend the entire time upset if I do go, thereby upsetting everyone else."

He made a huffing sound of grief and whispered, "Gods, I don't want it to be like this! Tell me what would make it better and I'll do it. I'll stay away from the party—"

"Don't you dare!" she demanded hotly, lifting her eyes to glare at him. "Twenty years you've known Aela. She's your sister. Whatever I am to her and Mjoll pales in comparison." He stared at her with a sorrowful expression, and she scoffed with quiet intensity, "Make it better. You really think there's anything you can do to make it better? No one can make things better for me. Not you, not Ulfric, no one. _Krosis los mid fahdoni._ Sorrow is my most loyal of friends. It never strays far from my side."

"So you'll sit in Honeyside stewing? You can't do that. You were really planning on doing that?" Her hesitation in answering told him that she actually hadn't, and was just being gloomy. "Come to the party and I'll stay out of your way. I'll stay as far away as humanly possible, and be as quiet as possible, if I'm the reason you don't want to go." Her lack of an answer told him that he was. It both hurt and warmed him that she still cared that much. Well of course she did. "I'm sorry. All I wanted was to talk to you, to get it out of the way before the wedding and make things more comfortable between us. I never intended to cause problems. Maybe I didn't think it through all the way, and I'm sorry. I…know how things are, for both of us, but this is our reality. What else can we do? We can't go back and change things. All we can do is move forward."

"Move forward!" she said with a laugh tinged with hysteria. "Do you know what I did sixteen days ago, Vilkas? I read _three_ Elder Scrolls. At once. One after the other. I went bat-shit crazy and blind from it. It showed me things that broke something inside me. It's still broken, no matter the splints and bandages Ulfric put over it. I sold two of the Scrolls to a priest who's taking them back to the Imperial City, but the Dragon Scroll won't leave me. I gave it to Urag at the College and I found it in my pack the next morning, twenty miles away. It's as if it wants me to open it up again, and re-see what I saw. Every day that moves forward could mean disaster."

His heart pounding, Vilkas whispered, "What did you see?" Sixteen days ago. He'd had that dream sixteen nights ago. Bryn shook her head, refusing to answer, and he didn't press, feeling almost dizzy with the revelation. So it had been an Elder Scroll that was to blame for his vision. He nearly asked her what _grohiiki_ meant, but he didn't dare. There was no way he could do that to her. The thought though that she had possibly seen the same thing he had…it made him want to cry. It made him want to grab her and tell her he had seen it too and damn the consequences. It was no wonder she wasn't happy to see him again. That vision had to have hurt her a hundred times more than it had him. He was going to tell Lydia though. She should have something sensible to say about it, and maybe Bryn would confide in her about what she had seen. "I should go then," he quietly said. "Where is Ulfric? I wanted to say hello to him."

"Bolli took him and Ralof fishing today. Ulfric's mother grew up not far from here." The idea had slightly horrified her, imagining him falling out of the boat and drowning, and he had assured her he wasn't going to wear armor and he swam quite well, then she had fussed about him not wearing armor and he had assured her that the nearby fort that she herself had cleared out at one point had a small garrison of Rift guards in it, many of them former Stormcloaks. Then he had gently but firmly told her that he was on what he considered a vacation, he was going fishing and that was that, and she'd had to leave it alone before he got irritated. It wasn't as if he was in danger, and he had Ralof with him, who was also not armored and also swam quite well, but she still had that invisible doom hanging over her, that Ulfric could die at any moment, and seeing Vilkas standing here was making it so much worse.

"Have you found out anything about your mother and her family?"

"No."

The short answer made him frown, and he asked, "Did you even try?"

"Rikke was able to find out a little about her, but the Legion doesn't keep very detailed personnel records at that rank, and frankly if I had any living family left don't you think they would have come out of the woodwork by now? A year and a half I've been in Skryim. That's plenty of time for them to come forward, or at least send me a letter or something."

"Unless it got lost," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. What of your father?"

"Legate Fasendil knew him in passing, that's all. I know plenty about my father, the good things Auntie and Grandmother told me. I just wanted to know if my parents were married when they had me."

Vilkas rolled his eyes and said, "Don't tell me you're worried that you're a bastard." She stared at him, her mouth slightly open, then she laughed shortly and folded her arms, looking away. By Talos she had muscular arms. It made him wonder what the rest of her looked like now. She didn't seem much heavier, and she wasn't built to the point of being unfeminine, but it was a little shocking. "What does it matter if your parents were married? They were together. Here in Skyrim no one cares about a child being born under the legitimacy of some piece of paper. You had a father, and your parents were together under the eyes of the Divines. They may have pledged their troth to each other at any point and who would know but them and Mara?" He suddenly wondered if part of her drive to be married was borne of not knowing if her parents had been. Her aunt had told her they weren't, but that could have easily been a lie.

"Goodbye, Vilkas."

Abruptly dismissed as she lowered her eyes and took out the ebony to begin pounding it again, Vilkas nodded and bowed slightly then walked away towards the Orphanage, trying not to bunch up his shoulders in anger. Well she was the damn Queen and could dismiss him if she liked. People greeted him as he passed and he nodded politely, trying not to let his aggravation show. He crossed over the bridge and stopped in front of Honorhall Orphanage to collect himself, knowing he had no right to be angry with Bryn. She hadn't dismissed him as Queen; she had let him know she was done talking because she was upset, and she had every reason to be; no doubt it wounded her to hear him talking of betrothals considering their past. At least she had talked to him, though to be fair she was the one who had chided him last time they saw each other when he wouldn't look at her. But that was before sixteen nights ago.

He entered the Orphanage, which was mostly empty at the moment with all the children playing outside. The headmistress Constance Michel was busy cooking lunch, humming to herself, and she looked up as he entered, gasping slightly. He supposed he did look a bit intimidating, but then he also thought that everyone knew who he was. He smiled gently at her and said, "I am Vilkas, Harbinger of the Companions." The young woman instantly relaxed and smiled shyly in return. She was a pretty little thing, Breton, delicately built. Some Nord men found Breton women enticing, with their fine, Elven-touched features and dainty bodies, but he wasn't one of them. He didn't particularly want to have to worry about breaking a woman in half when he slept with her. The thought made a spike of guilt go through him, and he had to wonder if he would be able to bring himself to sleep with another woman ever again. He was usually too busy to think much about it, and it was easier to take care of his needs himself than go to the trouble of seeking out female company. And now, after that vision, he worried that if he even tried to sleep with another woman that it would feel like he was being unfaithful to Bryn. After what he'd had with her no other woman could compare. He dug in his belt pouch, saying, "I wanted to leave something for the children, if I may."

"Oh, of course, of course!" Constance said gratefully.

"I hope things are going well here?"

"Oh yes, much better, since… Well, it's been better. The Queen, uh…she…she makes sure the children want for nothing. And the Jarls have gotten better about funding the children's care since…well." She accepted the generous handful of gold and murmured, "Thank you, Harbinger. This is much appreciated."

"You're welcome." He looked toward the back door and asked, "I was wondering…could I talk to them?"

"Really? You want to talk to them?"

"My brother Farkas and I…we were orphaned, when we were three. We were raised by the Companions."

Constance's hand went over her mouth as she whispered, "I had no idea!" She pinched her lip then said, "Maybe that would be a good thing. Talking to them, that is. Since Aventus came back…you know about Aventus?"

"I've heard rumors." Bryn had been on her way back to Windhelm after returning the boy to the Orphanage when she had been kidnapped by Astrid of the Dark Brotherhood. Right before everything went sour between them. Yes, he knew plenty about the clever young Aventus Aretino.

"He's told the children things," she said in a lowered voice, wringing her hands nervously. "I've heard them talking at night. Not so much now, but when he first came back, he told the other children… he told them…"

"Yes?"

"He told them that Brynhilde, the Queen, well she's the High Queen now…"

Seeing she was having trouble, Vilkas assured her, "If something is troubling you, you can say it without fear. I will keep it to myself, on my honor."

"Even from the Queen?"

He frowned and answered, "Yes, of course, though why you should fear the Queen is beyond me. She is the greatest supporter the Orphanage has. She was orphaned herself as a child, raised by her father's sister."

"Well…it's just that…the night Grelod, um, died…did you hear how she died?"

"Some say a Dark Brotherhood assassin killed her, due to a contract Aventus put out on her."

"The Queen did it!"

Vilkas stared at the young woman, seeing she was truly afraid, her tremulous whisper barely audible. "That is impossible," he stated flatly. "She would never do such a thing."

"I saw her in the room that night!" she insisted, moving closer to him. "She was wearing Dark Brotherhood armor. She had a mask over her face, but her eyes…I would know those eyes anywhere! And they widened when I turned around, as if she knew she had been caught! The next day she came in with a big bag of gold, like she was trying to buy my silence!"

He folded his arms as he shook his head, saying, "I refuse to believe that Bryn murdered anyone. Was there a mark anywhere on Grelod?"

"Well…no…but I'm sure she has ways of not leaving a mark!"

"Not that I know of." He shook his head again. "No. Bryn did not murder Grelod, and she was never a member of the Dark Brotherhood, in fact she was targeted by them repeatedly and destroyed them first chance she got. If it was Bryn, which I still doubt, she probably took the gear from one of the assassins who came after her, and she probably came in here that night to scare Grelod straight. The woman was ancient. Her heart probably gave out and she died of fright." The only way Bryn could kill anyone without leaving a mark was with the _thu'um,_ and all those ways made noise when she Shouted. "What does Aventus say about it?" At that Constance looked uncertain, and he pressed, "So?"

"He says she claims it was an accident," she murmured. Maybe it really had been, after all.

"There you have it. I assure you, she is a good person, a caring person. She has run herself ragged the last year and a half helping everyone she comes across. I hope you haven't spent all this time flinching from her and treating her like a murderer." Constance grimaced, making him sigh heavily. He was sure that kind of behavior would not go over well with Bryn, and she had never had much patience for wilting flowers like this one. Even as emotionally fragile as she had been at first, Bryn had always been brave, had always had a fire in her that was never entirely snuffed out.

"I'm not a brave person, Harbinger," she admitted, twining her fingers together. "I grew up here, under Grelod's hand, and never learned to stand up for myself. Anyone who does—did—that here got beaten for it. The children here…after Grelod died, they admitted that they were afraid that one day Grelod would end up beating one of them to death. I'm…well, I'm not sorry she's gone. I'm not even sorry that she died in terror, bad as that makes me feel. It was the thought that Brynhilde, the Queen, was an assassin. She's frightening enough as it is."

Vilkas patted her on the shoulder, making her wince; her bones were like a bird's, and he quickly drew his gauntleted hand away. No, pretty as she was, he would never try to bed a Breton woman. Her head didn't reach any farther than the middle of his chest, making him feel like a lumbering giant and her look like a child. It made him miss having Bryn's tall, strong body against his all the more. That woman had been able to take anything he could dish out and beg for more. "Let me go talk to the children. But think over what we have talked about. I swear to you on my honor as a Companion and as Harbinger that Bryn did not murder Grelod. She has never murdered anyone."

"Yes, Harbinger. I'm…I'm glad we had this talk."

"As am I."

Constance led him outside, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing when the children all gasped in surprise then screamed and swarmed around him. They were all boys but one, and even the girl wanted to touch his armor and try lifting his sword, which none of them could. He let them get the excitement out of their system for a few minutes then quieted them down and talked to them about their futures, about honor, about his own childhood, making sure Aventus especially understood. A child who could escape this place, make it all the way to Windhelm on his own, and get the components together to perform the Black Sacrament was someone to keep a close eye on, and the boy's dark eyes gleamed with an intense intelligence that could very easily go awry. Bryn had told Vilkas that she had given the boy a strong talking to and impressed on him how evil assassins were, but having another strong adult tell him the same thing might help keep him off a dark path. The talk seemed to take, and Vilkas was glad that he had done this, so much so that for a few minutes he was strongly tempted to take in the boy. He finally decided against it; Bryn had told him how much Aventus missed his friends here, and Vilkas was going to war within…well, it wouldn't be long if the Emperor was coming here to see Bryn. He wasn't about to do to a child what Jergen had done to him and Farkas, or saddle someone else with the child while he was gone.

Feeling pleased with himself, Vilkas left the Orphanage and headed around the canal toward Aerin and Mjoll's house. He glanced over at The Scorched Hammer and felt a twinge of grief and longing to see Bryn watching him. The forge was close to the Orphanage and she had no doubt heard the children screaming his name and title. He saw her smile slightly at him, her eyes shining with approval, and he let out a calming breath and returned the smile then continued on his way, resisting the urge to look at her again or go back and talk to her. She was a married woman and he wasn't about to have all of Riften watching them make eyes at each other, or be the cause of any strife in her marriage. At least he felt good right now, at this very moment, felt a kind of peace he hadn't felt since she had left him. He would cherish that for the brief time it lasted.


	48. Chapter 48

Lydia laughed as Farkas returned from the meadery and plunked down a crate with a dozen bottles of Black-Briar on the table in front of Ulfric, who nodded with a grin and reached for one at the same time as Ralof and Hadvar. As the men popped the corks Lydia took Bryn's arm and led her to the back door, saying, "Time to get out before the bullshit gets too deep to wade through." As they went out they saw Iona standing watch at the top of the stairs, and she smiled in greeting at Lydia then went down the stairs to the dock, giving them the privacy to talk. They clearly needed it, Bryn having been sad and tense for the last hour as they all ate dinner in Honeyside, trying desperately to be a good hostess. Ulfric had watched his wife with a wary expression while discreetly trying to draw her out and cheer her up, only partially succeeding.

She steered Bryn to the small table on the deck, seeing that Iona had thoughtfully set out a bottle of Honningbrew, Bryn's favorite. She gently pushed her mistress into a chair then shoved the bottle towards her. Bryn stared at it apathetically then pulled out the cork and took a drink directly from the bottle, which the men were no doubt doing as well. It was a given they would soon be having a much better time than the women were. Ulfric was pleasant company when he wasn't preoccupied with politics and war, and he had already stated that he considered himself on vacation for the next several days, and Farkas got along with everyone, and Ralof and Hadvar both seemed likable men. They all had plenty of stories to tell and were probably already going at it as only men could.

Lydia lowered herself into the other chair, and Bryn glanced at her gently rounded belly with envy. "Is the little one moving yet?" she asked.

"Not yet, but the healers say I'll feel it any day now." She was about five months along, or thereabouts. "Farkas is so excited. He wants to get things ready for the baby and I keep telling him it's too early yet."

"He'll be a wonderful father."

The waver to Bryn's voice made Lydia lean across the table and say intently, "All right, spill it. Tell me what's wrong. You've been off all night." As if she didn't know. Vilkas had headed straight for her after leaving the Orphanage. Talking to Bryn again had Vilkas in a state but he was managing well. Surprisingly well. He wasn't driving anyone nuts anyway. Yet.

"Do you promise not to tell anyone?" Lydia hesitated, and she added, "Especially Vilkas. He can't ever know."

"I'm sorry my lady, but that's a hard promise to make. You have a tendency to sit on things that people _should_ know."

"Ulfric knows. So does Serana. They were there."

Lydia made a face and said, "Yes, that vampire. Do you trust her?"

"Yes, implicitly. Even Hadvar and Ralof do. She's stuck with us through the whole nasty business, and she's been loyal to me. Protective even. Especially after…" She made a sound of frustration and demanded, "Promise me you won't tell Vilkas!"

"Why?"

"Because it would hurt him." Lydia still hesitated, and Bryn reached over and grabbed her hand, making her wince, and Bryn quickly loosened her grip. She leaned across the table, tears stinging her eyes, and whispered, "Please, Lydia!"

"All right," Lydia quickly promised, putting her other hand over Bryn's. "I swear it on my life." And to be fair, she already had an idea of what Bryn was going to say.

"This whole thing with the vampires hinged on a prophecy, and that bow I showed you, and to get to the root of it we had to read some Elder Scrolls, and the moth priest we found went blind after the first one. To find the bow I had to read three of them. At the same time." Lydia looked horrified at that, knowing what the first one had done to her. "There was no one else who could do it, and everyone thought I would be fine because of what I am, and I suppose the next day I was, fine enough anyway, but…you can't imagine what I heard and saw. The Scroll, it told me I might…become Empress," she finished in a low voice.

"What?" Lydia whispered in dismay. "Tell me you won't have to do that!"

"The Emperor is coming to Skyrim soon. To see me. That's a long and fairly dangerous journey just for a visit. The Scroll said that dragon blood will rule over White-Gold Tower again, the Thalmor will get pushed back to Alinor and never rise again, and the 'gift of Akatosh', a Dragonborn bloodline, I'm assuming mine, will keep existing as long as dragons live in Skyrim."

Lydia squeezed Bryn's hand and murmured, "Oh Bryn. I'm so sorry. But…maybe this is a good thing. Not for you so much, I realize that, but…you could fix things." Bryn sighed heavily and tried to pull away but Lydia tightened her grip on her hand and stopped her. "I know this isn't what you wanted. What you have now isn't what you wanted. But you're Dragonborn. What else can you do? If the Emperor wants to come here and meet you, instead of calling you to the Imperial City, that's a sign of favor. It's showing everyone that he has faith in you, and he hasn't even met you yet. Once he does… Well, what does Ulfric say?"

"He hates the Emperor, because of the White-Gold Concordat and what happened to him when he was a prisoner of war, and because of the Markarth Incident and not being released for his father's funeral. He absolutely detests the man. But he respects him in certain ways. I don't know how men are able to do that."

"Me neither."

"He said the same thing you did," Bryn stated in a tone of defeat. "That maybe this was necessary to fix the Empire and get rid of the Dominion for good. I don't have a problem going to war and getting rid of the Dominion, I really don't, but I don't want to live in Cyrodiil! I don't want to leave Skyrim!"

"Don't worry about that now, all right? That's probably so far off in the future it isn't worth worrying about. Titus Mede is only in his early sixties. Even if he names you his heir it might be twenty years or more before you have to worry."

"That isn't my biggest worry. Not right now."

"So what is it?"

She hesitated and insisted, "You won't tell Vilkas?"

Lydia huffed and stated in annoyance, "I already said I wouldn't!"

"I told him about the Emperor. Not the part about becoming Empress. I…don't know if he should know that. Because of…because of what I saw." Lydia waited, with as much patience as she had, which was never much. If Vilkas knew she might end up ruling an Empire, he might not want to be with her someday. Being the consort of an Empress was entirely different from being the consort of the Queen of a mostly rural province. She couldn't risk losing Vilkas again. If something happened to Ulfric and Vilkas wasn't there to turn to… "The Scroll told me about that. In a voice. This weird voice that wasn't male or female. It told me things about the Champion of Cyrodiil, Divines only know why, maybe as a warning, maybe because it had to do with Martin, the last Dragonborn Emperor. I saw him, too, as an avatar of Akatosh, a dragon made of fire. It was all quite sad but not relevant to anything. I don't know, maybe it was because I met Sheogorath, and he is the Champion—"

"Good gods, tell me it isn't true," Lydia breathed in disgust. The Hero of Kvatch, the Champion of Cyrodiil, had dropped off the face of Nirn a few months after Martin's death and was never heard from again.

"The Scroll told me he was Martin Septim's lover, and that after Martin died he was so crazy with grief and the terrible things he saw in Oblivion that when that island popped up in Niben Bay and he realized it led to the Shivering Isles he went in and never came back out, and he ended up taking Sheogorath's place. He chose to go completely mad."

"Ugh. The poor man."

"The Dragon Scroll told me that about the Champion, and about becoming Empress. The Scrolls are records of what has passed, and prophecies of what will come to pass. They aren't…they don't tell you what might have been. They only tell you what's already happened, and what is likely to happen in the future. But I saw something. I was actually there, in the future. The way the Dragon Scroll let me go through the Time Wound and watch the heroes defeat Alduin in the past. But clearer." Lydia nodded, encouraging her to go on. "That isn't supposed to happen. I talked to Dexion about it. The moth priest. I had to get rid of those other two scrolls, and I needed to talk to him about how the Scrolls worked, to be sure. The Scrolls aren't supposed to let people see things, only hear the Scroll's voice and read its text, but because I'm Dragonborn and made by Akatosh, Dexion thinks the Scrolls let me step outside Time, let me briefly be somewhere, some_when_ else, silly as that sounds."

"Not at all." It was pretty esoteric, but Lydia wasn't stupid.

Bryn pulled away from Lydia and her friend let her go, and she took a deep drink of mead, wishing she could get drunk. She didn't dare. She held so much inside at this point that she couldn't risk it. She'd never be able to risk it again. Never be able to completely relax ever again.

"You're starting to worry me," Lydia stated with complete honesty. There was something different about Bryn now that she couldn't put her finger on. An edge that wasn't there before. Maybe it was just the fear. Lydia had never known Bryn to actually be afraid of anything. Not for herself.

"I don't like what I'm becoming."

"You haven't every step of the way, and every step of the way you've gotten used to it and moved on."

She stared at the housecarl for a moment, her eyes wide, then she nodded. "Yes, I suppose I have. But this…this is too hard. I can't handle knowing this. Fearing this constantly. I feel a doom hanging over me, worse than before. Because of what I saw. Ulfric knows and he's so damn calm about it I want to scream. I did scream, when I saw it. Ulfric had to Shout at me to snap me out of it." She took a deep breath and lowered her eyes as she went on, "You want to know what I saw? I was lying in bed, right after giving birth, and I had a baby girl in my hands. A dark-haired baby girl. And Vilkas was on the other side of the bed, with our older son, a blond little boy that looked about two. I couldn't see the little one's face, he was hiding it in Vilkas' neck, like he was upset or afraid. Probably afraid from hearing me in labor, because everyone probably did." She swallowed hard, unable to look Lydia in the eye. "I was so happy right then, holding her, having Vilkas and the little boy there with me. I told Vilkas, 'Look _grohiiki,_ she has your hair and mouth.' I never called him that when we were together. I didn't even know the dragon tongue then. I told our son 'Come see your sister, little cub.'" A tear welled up and ran down her cheek, and she continued, "The Scrolls show what is likely to pass, and in order for that to happen Ulfric will die. And I can't help wondering lately if that child is actually Ulfric's. The blond one. And that's why I called him little cub, _mal kodaav,_ a little bear cub."

"Oh Bryn," Lydia whispered, near tears herself. This was so excruciating to listen to, even worse than it had been hearing Vilkas describe it. So it really had been Bryn's reading of the Elder Scroll that had caused Vilkas' vision, because he had been there too, in that future, for just a little bit. There was no way Lydia could hint at all that he had seen it; it would only deepen the sense of doom that Bryn was living under. If Vilkas had seen it too it seemed there was no escaping it. But the blond toddler…Lydia never would have imagined the child might be Ulfric's. That Vilkas was going to raise another man's child as his own. She said to Bryn, "The boy might not be Ulfric's. Wolves have cubs too." Bryn's eyes snapped up to hers. "Vilkas told me. About the Circle. Aela. About everything."

Bryn sighed heavily, not about to worry about it, and wiped the tears from her eyes, glad to have something else to talk about. At this point it was ridiculous to worry, and clearly it hadn't made Lydia take off screaming or leave Farkas. "Why? It was supposed to end with them."

"Them? You had it too. You had it and I never guessed."

She shrugged one shoulder, taking the bottle of mead between her hands. "For maybe three weeks at most. I changed once, when I was first turned, and refused to eat anything, and never changed again. I could barely even tell I had it. The dragon kept the wolf at bay. I only took the Blood to try to empathize with Vilkas and understand what he was going through. You can't imagine how it tormented him, constantly. He tried so hard to resist it and it was an endless struggle. It never really bothered Farkas, and Kodlak was so ill that the beastblood was nothing compared to that, but…poor Vilkas. I saw him change once, the night I took that arrow, and he was absolutely sick with self-loathing afterwards. He hated what he was, and it kept getting worse and worse the longer he put off changing. I told him I loved him either way and to change if he had to, and he was horrified. I told him I could never be afraid of him or any of the others, being what I am, but he didn't care. He wanted it gone, and so did Farkas, so he could marry you." She glanced at Lydia and added, "I never told you because it wasn't my secret to tell. I hope it didn't cause problems between you and Farkas, when you found out."

She sighed and admitted, "We had a pretty big fight about it that night. Our only real fight. And he was mad, really mad. I've never seen him get mad like that. He actually yelled at me." Bryn's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Well, it didn't last long, and it was Vilkas he was actually mad at, for telling me. But he had to, because eventually I would have found out either way."

"How?"

"Well, I told you Tilma passed away, a few days before we left." Bryn nodded sadly. "She always knew what was going on in Jorrvaskr. She had an artifact, a pendant with the dried up heart of Jeek of the River in it." Bryn's nose wrinkled then she shuddered and took a drink of mead. "Yes, it's rather gross, and I'm not all that happy about having it. I had to leave it behind, since it's tied to Jorrvaskr. Jeek's spirit is bound up with the mead hall and his body is buried beneath it, and it whispers secrets to the mistress of the hall that it thinks she should know. Sooner or later it would have told me that Aela was a werewolf, and then I would have gotten to thinking about the wolf armor the Circle wore, and how they stopped wearing it, and how Vilkas' behavior changed, and how the howling around Whiterun has tapered off over the last couple years…well, I'm not dumb."

"You are definitely not, my friend." Lydia smiled slightly at her. Bryn leaned back in her chair and said with a grin, "It's about time you get some weird shit of your own going on. I'm tired of it always being me." Lydia laughed heartily at that and Bryn's language. "So, has it told you anything interesting yet?"

"No, I think it's still…I don't know, trying to figure out who I am. Tilma has been the mistress of the hall for so long, sixty some years, that it might be a little confused at this point." She shivered and went on, "I guess I'll…I don't know, talk to it or something when I get back. I'm really not looking forward to it, but I'll deal with it. I'm in too deep with the Companions now to ever get out." She had to admit, she loved being part of them, and Vilkas was a good Harbinger and had cracked down on Torvar's drunkenness and Njada's attitude towards Athis. It was like being part of a big, boisterous family. It was no wonder Bryn missed it so much.

"So… Mjoll knows about Aela, then." Mjoll had never even hinted at it.

"Yes, not long before Skjorta was born. Mjoll nearly left her for it, Vilkas said. She made her swear that it stops with her."

Bryn shook her head. "I understand why Aela doesn't want the cure, barely. Both of her parents were werewolves, and she wants to see Skjor again, but…hasn't she considered that that means she won't be with Mjoll?"

Lydia frowned and said, "You know, I've thought about that, with Vilkas talking about wanting to go to Sovngarde. Farkas and I talked a lot about the beastblood, after the night we hashed it out. He thinks… well, he told me he used to like watching the wild wolves around Whiterun. Vilkas never wanted to go, but Farkas said he would change and go out through the Underforge and hunt then he would lie in the grass and watch the wolves. Just sit there."

"I can see him doing that," Bryn said quietly, her heart aching to hear this. Vilkas would never talk to her about it, any of it, and she hadn't really talked to Farkas much about it after the walk back from Dustman's Cairn.

"He said a lot of times wolves mate for life. Especially dominant wolves. Alpha wolves. The Circle had no true Alpha according to Farkas, but Aela, well maybe Skjor was her…mate, for want of a better term. She loves Mjoll, I can tell she does, but there isn't any passion behind it." There wasn't a whole lot on Mjoll's part either, the two women seeming to be close partners more than spouses, but there was a visible bond between them that more than made up for everything else, and they were both excellent mothers to Skjorta.

Bryn sadly murmured, "Skjor…the night they offered me the Blood, the night he died, he said he only had eyes for Aela. Aela said he'd loved her since she was a young girl."

Lydia clucked her tongue in grief. "How terribly sad. Farkas told me all about that, about how he had to help Aela with the body, and what the Silver Hand had done to him. Absolutely evil. I understand hunting a thing, but not what they did." She leaned back in her chair as well, rubbing her belly. "I think Farkas is right, about the mating thing. He said that once he decided on me every other woman ceased to exist for him, and he isn't prone to flowery talk at all, so he meant it literally." She saw Bryn look away, over the lake, a deep frown on her face, running her thumb over the label on the mead bottle.

"Has Vilkas been with anyone?"

"Oh Bryn," Lydia sighed. "I don't know. I don't think so. He hardly leaves Jorrvaskr. When he does it's to have lunch with the Jarl. He takes his job so seriously that it doesn't leave room for much else. He spends all his time training the younger ones and arranging jobs—" They suddenly heard rowdy laughter from the men inside, and she snorted and said, "That didn't take long." Bryn wasn't amused, still staring over the lake with a sullen expression, nursing her bottle of mead. By the Divines, she and Vilkas were two of a kind. Everyone else around them could be having a party and they would be the ones brooding over something. Well, she supposed this was worth brooding over. Lydia had the very strong feeling that Vilkas very likely was mated to Bryn for life. She remembered quite clearly the day he had told her about the beastblood and her telling him it was over, and his cry _Then why doesn't it ever feel like it is!_

"When he talked to me today, I could tell he still loves me," Bryn muttered. "He even tried to say it, that he knew how things were between us and there was nothing we could do about it. He said he came to the forge just because he wanted to see me. There was something different in his eyes, like…it was like he was trying to tell me something, or wanted to, and couldn't bring himself to do it. As if I don't know." She made a sound of pain and whispered, "I love Ulfric, so much. He's been so good to me, so supportive. Even with the terrible things that have happened to him, he's tried so hard to be a good husband, a good lover, and he has been. When we talked about that vision I saw, he was so damn calm about it, saying if it happened it was going to happen no matter what anyone did, that seeing it wasn't going to be the reason it happened, then he gave me some…utter _crap_ about how he was basically living on borrowed time anyway, that by all rights I should have taken sides in the civil war and that he knew I would have chosen the Empire and put a quick end to it all by killing him and Galmar, but that giving him the dossier changed how things might have been. He acted like it was all no big deal. As if I shouldn't fuss and fret over his impending death. It…it made me want to scream, how calm he was!"

Lydia reached over the little table and put her hand on Bryn's arm. "Hey, you can't let yourself obsess over this. I know it's hard, but you're going to drive yourself batty if you keep this up."

"I don't know how to stop," she said in anguish. "I'm worried sick about Ulfric, but…Mara help me, I still love Vilkas so much. I don't understand how things went so wrong. I get this feeling sometimes, since reading the Scrolls a couple weeks ago, this feeling that I shouldn't even be with Ulfric at all, that it's some sort of cosmic mistake, that he's right and I somehow made Time go awry by giving him the dossier, that he was never meant to see it and maybe he really was supposed to get killed in the civil war. When I had dinner with him that night, when I gave him the dossier, he was standing there in front of me and I knew, I just _knew_ I should kill him right then and there. The urge was so strong it was all I could do not to do it, and he sensed it too. What if fate was telling me right then to put an end to it and I screwed up by resisting it?"

"I'm sorry, but that's bullshit," Lydia said firmly. "Okay, maybe you did push events a certain way, and maybe Ulfric was meant to die and you stopped it from happening, then. But have you considered that maybe by doing so you've redeemed him? You told me after the wedding that he called you his redemption. Think of what you've done for him by giving him that dossier. Instead of going to his grave being reviled as a traitor and king-slayer, someday he will go to Sovngarde as a hero, as the consort of the High Queen of Skyrim and husband of the Dragonborn. You're giving him a chance to fight against the Aldmeri Dominion, the ones who tortured him, when he otherwise wouldn't have been able to. You've made him happy and taught him how to love when all he knew before was bitterness and hate. From what he told you he knows all that."

"But…I don't want him to die!" she whimpered. Of course everything Lydia was saying made perfect sense, but it didn't help much.

Lydia squeezed her arm and murmured, "I know, but…he will eventually anyway. We all do. Anyone could die at any time. Farkas still goes on jobs around Whiterun every so often and could get killed. Mjoll's been taking Aela's jobs while she's nursing. Any of the hold guards with spouses and families could get killed by bandits any given day. Everyone takes that risk when they fall in love and get married."

"But they don't see it coming! That's what's so horrible about it!" Lydia didn't have a response to that, because there wasn't one. There was another round of male laughter from inside, and the sound of Ulfric's delighted guffaws made a lump rise in her throat, a sound she had heard only rarely. Yes, he had been bitter and resentful when she first met him. He had agonized over their relationship constantly until they had married, but after that he had been truly happy. He still got angry at times, still seethed when certain topics came up, but for the most part he was very content with their life together, other than wanting the vampires gone so they could live like a semi-normal married couple. Rikke and Galmar had each other now, when they might have faced each other on the battlefield instead. The same with Ralof and Hadvar's slowly mending friendship.

When Bryn let out a long breath then took a deep drink of mead, seeming resigned, Lydia quietly said, "Vilkas loves you, my lady. I won't betray his trust any more than I would yours, because he's my brother, but…he _loves_ you. He's never stopped loving you."

"I know. I've never stopped loving him either." She sighed. "_Grohiiki_…it means my wolf. I never called him that when we were together."

_That_ at least she would be telling Vilkas. "That wolves mating for life thing…maybe it happened to him too." Vilkas had a widely roving eye before Bryn came along, in that formerly creepy predatory way of his, and Lydia hadn't seen him even glance at another woman with interest since then, and he had never stopped brooding over what went wrong with Bryn. Almost as if he still couldn't quite bring himself to believe it was over, because for him it never had been.

"Maybe so." It would explain a great deal. He shouldn't have come to her today with that look still in his eyes, saying he just wanted to see her. He shouldn't have smiled at her like that after coming out of the Orphanage. He had actually gone to the Orphanage to see the children. Bryn had heard them screaming in excitement over the Harbinger really being there, screaming to hold his sword and touch his ebony armor. Being an orphan himself Vilkas no doubt had a soft spot for the children, but it had still been unexpected, and the way he had left the forge it hadn't been on impulse, so he had planned to visit them. She wondered if that timid mouse Constance Michel had trembled and cringed from him the way she still did from Bryn.

"Are you going to the wedding party tomorrow?"

"Yes, I swore to Ulfric I would."

"Does he know you spoke with Vilkas?"

"Yes, I tell him everything." There was little she had told him that had thrown him for long. He took everything she said with an unnerving calm, and almost always had an observant thing to say about it. She still wasn't sure how much of his demeanor was the Greybeards' training or his own natural personality. Not that it mattered.

"Did you tell him about the werewolves?"

Bryn snorted and said, "That is the one thing he does not need to know."

"Can't really argue that." A whoop went up from inside, and she laughed, "What on earth are they doing in there?"

"Man things," Bryn said with disinterest. She took another drink then said, "I wonder if Hadvar and Aerin will take a shine to each other."

"I thought he was seeing Onmund?"

"It's fairly casual still. They've only met up twice, the two times I've gone up to the College. I get the feeling Onmund isn't quite as experienced as what Hadvar is used to." Lydia made a sound of interest, putting her chin in her hand. "All those years in the Legion, I don't see how the poor guy could measure up, but Hadvar has a kind heart, and Onmund is sweet. Hadvar isn't looking to settle down with anyone or take a serious partner yet, though. Ralof either. At least Ralof is being more discreet now. The second time we came here he had Iona screaming downstairs and the headboard banging against the wall." Lydia laughed in delight at that. "I was so embarrassed, and poor Ralof was embarrassed that I was embarrassed…it was really awkward. Hadvar at least, well, maybe it isn't fair, but he doesn't have the same options as Ralof, and frankly…ah, hm. You know, I'm not even really sure what men do with each other. Other than, the, ah…um, oral…thing." She nearly smacked her forehead at how clumsily it came out. She couldn't believe how uptight she could still get about these things.

Lydia wiggled her eyebrows and asked, "Want me to tell you?"

"No!" Bryn exclaimed, putting her hands over her ears. She immediately took her hands away and leaned forward saying, "I lied, tell me!"

"Well, there really isn't much a man and woman do together that two men can't. They can lie together the same way, pretty much."

"But how…no!" she breathed. She then wrinkled her nose and grimaced. "Really? Back there?"

"Oh yes."

"But isn't it…ugh. That's disgusting." Lydia burst into peals of laughter. "Really, it's revolting, Lydia."

"I take it you haven't tried it then."

"Why would I!" It had never even occurred to her, and she'd be damned if she ever did. The thought was so filthy she couldn't tolerate it. Especially now that she realized with horror that it was how Ulfric had been abused by the males who had taken him. She couldn't imagine how helpless that had made him feel. Violated in the worst possible way.

"It feels better than you would expect." Bryn looked uncertain at that, and Lydia raised an eyebrow and asked, "You haven't even dabbled in it?"

"Well…" She bit her lip, her cheeks growing warm. "Ulfric's…fiddled, um, around, a few times. It was… I suppose it was nice." It had been more than nice, actually, but it was something she had to be in a certain mood for, but to his credit Ulfric was very good at reading her mood, in bed and out. He studied her sometimes as if sizing up an adversary, especially lately, well-intentioned as it was.

"You know, you can do the same to a man, and it's even better for them. It drives Farkas wild. Reduces him to a moaning, quivering pile of jelly." Bryn's mouth fell open, her face visibly red even in the low light. Lydia smiled slyly and motioned with her fingers, saying, "It's like that magic spot in a woman, but for them it's back there. You should try it on Ulfric some time."

"N-no. I…can't. I would never even try." Her poor husband would come out of his skin if she tried to do that to him. He still hadn't even let her pleasure him from start to finish. It was as if he couldn't bear the thought of completely giving up control. She wished now that she had consulted the priestesses of Dibella on that matter instead of the other. It was certainly the more important of the two, and she kicked herself now for not doing it. Well, she was bound to pass through Markarth again at some point.

The odd tone to Bryn's voice kept Lydia from pressing. Bryn could be so incredibly uptight still it was amazing. It was bizarre that a married woman who was clearly not reserved in bed could be so reserved out of it. It was a poorly-kept secret in the Palace of Kings how loud Bryn was when she was with Ulfric, who was obviously good in bed if that was the case. A sudden sick feeling of disquiet went through Lydia as she heard Bryn's earlier words come back to her: _Even with the terrible things that have happened to him, he's tried so hard to be a good husband, a good lover._ And Bryn refused to even contemplate doing something to him that might be uncomfortable or leave him vulnerable. It made Lydia wonder if during the year he had spent in Thalmor custody they hadn't used just physical and psychological torture on him. Lydia left the matter alone, though it made her seethe with hatred for the monsters. At least Ulfric had gotten the satisfaction of taking off that witch's head. The poor man.

Lydia finally said in a kind voice, "All right, I'm done embarrassing you. I'm sorry. I just wish I could go with you on your adventures. At least you had Rikke with you for a while, but now you just have the two guys, and something tells me that even with his proclivities Hadvar is very much a guy."

"He definitely is." She had met plenty of men who loved men and some of them were rather effeminate; others you couldn't tell their preferences unless it somehow came up. Hadvar was very masculine indeed, but his nature did make her feel safe around him in a way Ralof didn't, much as she liked them both. She hadn't imagined though that men would have sex with each other like that. She had never even contemplated that herself. It was so…gross that it made a shudder of disgust go through her. She was trying to picture Hadvar doing it and just couldn't, and the thought of poor Ulfric…well, now she knew exactly what they had done to him, by force, and it made her want to cry.

"Good grief, stop thinking about it!" Lydia chided. "I'm sorry I ever brought it up, but you said you wanted to know."

"I know, ignore me."

"Are you at least able to talk to Serana?"

Bryn sputtered and said, "Good lord, no. She's…odd. She really dislikes talking about her past, and when I try to talk to her about anything personal she listens but acts all puzzled, like she doesn't quite get what I'm saying. She's been a good follower, and I think having her around is finally starting to get Ralof used to magic. At least this last time he went up to the College with me and didn't react too badly to seeing people casting spells, or all the Elves up there. I've been thinking about studying magic a bit more myself when I have the time. I know dozens of spells from all the spell tomes I've found but I can only cast a handful of them other than Restoration spells." Lydia made a sound of acknowledgment, no fan of magic herself, but then she was a Nord. "I wonder sometimes what Serana is going to do once this is all over. I brought up getting cured once and she shut me down pretty fast. I get the feeling that whatever ritual she went through to become a vampire was pretty horrible. Humiliating, she said. She told me that she went through so much to become one that she didn't think she could ever think about getting cured, so I left it alone. She's been careful about feeding from what I can tell, and said she's never infected anyone. I don't see how she can feed with consent, but maybe she doesn't need to feed that often since she's a pure-blood. I try not to think about it too hard. If Sybille Stentor can live like a civilized being then I'm sure Serana and her mother can as well."

"Let's hope so." She didn't want Bryn to be forced to put down someone she had begun to like and trust. Bryn had already had to deal with too many unpleasantries as it was, and Lydia didn't even know most of what had gone on since the last time she had talked to her in Whiterun. Well, they had several more days to spend together and plenty of time to talk, so she would try to give Bryn as much companionship and support as possible during that time. Maybe she could even talk Farkas into going to Windhelm for a visit, once Bryn was permanently in residence there and the vampire problem was solved, which sounded as if it wouldn't be long at all. Bryn made friends everywhere she went, but Lydia was one of the few close friends she had, and the only woman Bryn completely confided in, though she deeply trusted Aela and Mjoll. It made Lydia wish she could move to Windhelm permanently, but unfortunately that just wasn't possible. She and Farkas had too many responsibilities at Jorrvaskr to ever leave for long.

It made Lydia wonder how Vilkas would manage living in Windhelm, at that possible point in the future. She strongly doubted he would ever give up being Harbinger, a position he had coveted for most of his life. Well, it was no use worrying about something that hadn't happened yet, and may never happen. If only she could get Bryn to do the same.


	49. Chapter 49

Vilkas paused inside the Temple of Mara, feeling twinges of grief and guilt. If only he had done the smart, sensible thing and married Bryn when he'd first thought about it, sparing them both a great deal of pain. Bryn mostly. His brother and Lydia went to her, where she was cuddling Dinya and Maramal's five month old baby girl. Ulfric was standing behind his wife with what looked to be a deliberately blank expression, looking anywhere but at the infant or its mother, or Athis. Vilkas wasn't enamored of Elves either, but he always reserved judgment until they showed their character, for the good or the bad. The baby seemed entirely Dunmer except for her black hair being a bit curly. Vilkas wryly wondered if Ulfric was going to expect Bryn to wash her hands when she was done holding the child. Vilkas had seen very few Elven children in his life, and he had to admit the baby looked a bit odd, with her enormous slanted dark red eyes and tiny pointed ears. Cute, he supposed, but odd.

He moved to the side of the door to let in more people, citizens of Riften, and he leaned against the wall and folded his arms and sighed unhappily at how beautiful Bryn looked, with her pale blond hair loose, wearing a dress of white and pale blue silk. He couldn't believe how long her hair had gotten, down to the middle of her back, shimmering in the light. Her wedding ring of ebony stood out starkly on her fair hand. Bryn lifted the baby to kiss her gray cheek and Ulfric wandered away with a tense expression, as if unable to tolerate it any longer, and when his eyes landed on Vilkas he looked so relieved that Vilkas nearly laughed at the expression and the sense of déjà vu it gave him. The Jarl came over to him, smiling slightly in greeting, and when he held out his hand Vilkas took it and murmured, "Jarl Ulfric."

"Harbinger," he replied. He looked the taller man over, finding him much less intimidating out of his ebony armor. He was wearing an off-white tunic with red embroidery along the neck and cuffs, and brown wool pants, with the ever-present cuff of gold around his right wrist. He looked rather normal, except for being unfairly handsome, along with his twin.

"It's good of you to come to the wedding."

"I didn't want Brynhilde to come alone. I'm also trying to take a vacation, something she told me I needed. I have to admit she was right. I've enjoyed it here." The weather was much milder than Windhelm's, and the scenery was lovely. He had gotten so relaxed floating on the lake yesterday that he had nearly fallen asleep in the sun. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt like that. Maybe he never had, since leaving High Hrothgar at eighteen.

"Riften is easier to enjoy these days." Ulfric nodded in agreement. "Hadvar told me the vampire issue is nearly resolved."

Ulfric folded his arms and stated, "Yes, and damn time. Brynhilde and the lads have been run ragged dealing with the problem. Every time something new crops up you can tell she's about ready to throw up her hands and say to hell with it all. That Isran fellow should have put his base of operations on the other side of Skyrim and saved a lot of running around. Still, once we leave here, Brynhilde will head out from Windhelm and finish this once and for all. The Dawnguard is mounting a full assault on Castle Volkihar. I would like to go with them and share in the battle, but I have duties at home, and my wife has become a bit of a mother hen lately. She saw things during her reading of the Elder Scrolls that led her to believe that I have one foot in the grave. I refuse to live my life that way."

Vilkas frowned sadly at him then nodded. "As well you should, my lord." By the Nine the man was frank. Vilkas wondered if he was like that with everyone or just select people, and if he should be flattered. At least Ulfric wasn't as bad as Mjoll, whose talkative nature and forthrightness could be absolutely shocking at times.

The troubled look on the other man's face made Ulfric study him for a moment, and when Vilkas licked his lips and looked away he softly murmured, "Please tell me Lydia didn't pass on what Brynhilde saw." Bryn had filled him in this morning on the girls' conversation, though he wasn't sure how much he had actually heard being mildly hungover. He had drunk much more last night than he had intended, but the young men's company had been enjoyable, the mead cold and delicious, and the stories entertaining, some of them his own. He'd had…fun. Yes, that was what it had been. For the last two days he hadn't felt like a Jarl, and he'd liked it. It made him guiltily glad that he'd left Galmar behind to look after things; his friend would have fussed worse than Bryn over the fishing trip.

"Lydia would never betray a confidence," he said with mild offense. Ulfric gazed at him with a wary expression, and Vilkas returned it uncomfortably, not sure if he should say anything. The Jarl seemed fine with the knowledge, but knowing that Vilkas had seen it as well might change everything.

"Hm." Maybe the housecarl hadn't said anything, but Vilkas knew…something. He had one of those faces that didn't hide his feelings well. He seemed sad, in a resigned kind of way that made Ulfric uneasy, because he seemed sad for Ulfric. He nearly asked if Vilkas somehow knew what Bryn had seen, but the Redguard priest was moving towards the altar and asking everyone to take their seats. "Later, then," he murmured, not waiting for Vilkas to reply, and he turned and went back to his wife, who thankfully had returned the Dunmer infant to its mother, and the mother was thankfully sitting nursing it off to the side.

Vilkas sat down next to Torvar and Athis in the back left pew, behind Farkas, Lydia and Aerin, and he sighed silently to himself as Bryn happily took Skjorta from Aela for the duration of the ceremony. She sat down in the front pew and Ulfric moved close to her, putting his arm around her shoulders and leaning his head against hers, perfectly content to pay attention to a purely Nord child, Erik on his other side. Ulfric petted Skjorta's sparse hair as Bryn tenderly kissed his scarred cheek, and Vilkas had to tear his gaze away before he started bawling. _Oh love,_ he thought painfully, trying to focus on Maramal's words as Aela and Mjoll joined hands, beaming at each other. He would rather be alone forever than have Bryn lose her husband. Maybe Ulfric was at peace with it, but no one else was. Lydia had been sad but pragmatic about it, though it still upset her to think of Bryn's potential loss. Lydia had admitted to him that Bryn had told her even more, things she couldn't pass on, but he could live with that.

At least now he knew what _grohiiki_ meant. It was good that Lydia had been able to spend some time talking to Bryn last night, just the two of them. From what Farkas had said the four men had gotten fairly drunk and had a very good time, and Farkas had thought it unfortunate that Vilkas hadn't been invited, but he wouldn't have gone even if he had been. Drinking mead with Bryn's husband wasn't his idea of a good time, even if he respected the man, and he did not hold his alcohol well. He also had a way of bringing down a party and would have ruined the whole evening. He hoped he didn't end up doing that at the wedding celebration. He would have to simply leave if he started brooding and making everyone uncomfortable. Well, it wouldn't make his Shield-Brothers and –Sisters uncomfortable, used to it as they were, but it would bother Bryn, and a wedding celebration shouldn't be marred by someone being moody. He wasn't sure how Bryn was going to manage not being moody herself, but if she did it would no doubt be because of Vilkas or Ulfric. Or Vilkas _and_ Ulfric.

"Hey, calm down," Torvar whispered, giving him a nudge. Vilkas' hands were clenching and unclenching as he stared intently at Bryn, his left knee bouncing slightly. The Harbinger glanced at him in aggravation then deflated and nodded, giving him a brief twitch of a smile in thanks before folding his arms tightly, but it was only a few seconds before his eyes traveled back to Bryn again. Torvar glanced at Athis next to him, who had also noticed, and the Dunmer rolled his eyes and shook his head before turning his attention back to the ceremony. Everyone knew this would be hard on Vilkas, but he was making it harder on himself. It was like the guy was a glutton for punishment.

Vilkas sighed silently as Aela and Mjoll made their pledges to each other and exchanged rings, and when his eyes moved back to Bryn he saw Ulfric pulling her long hair back out of the baby's grasp. He hadn't realized her hair was that long now; even when they were together she had usually kept it braided up and out of the way. She had told him once that it had been down to her waist before her cousin had hacked it off. He could just imagine how beautiful it would look hanging down her bare back, pale ash blond against creamy white skin. Ulfric glanced back and Vilkas quickly looked away, not about to get caught staring at another man's wife, even if it was a woman that used to be his. But by Mara it felt like she still was!

* * *

"So."

Vilkas' breath caught as he came out of the privy, one that was shared with Bolli and his wife next door. He closed the door and eyed Ulfric warily, and as he moved away from the somewhat smelly little shack he glanced around, seeing Hadvar some distance away along the stone wall, looking the other direction. Vilkas ran his tongue over his teeth, irritated at being basically ambushed after taking a leak. Ulfric had been watching him for the last hour since the wedding party started and Bryn had been very pointedly ignoring his existence, both of which he had found so annoying and anxiety-provoking that it had been a relief to have an excuse to leave the house, and he was tempted to just not go back in and take a walk instead. "Yes, my lord?" he muttered.

"You can dispense with the formalities, Vilkas," Ulfric stated, his arms folded.

"Perhaps it's best if I don't."

"Something has changed, and I wish to know what it is." Vilkas stared at him, shaking his head slightly, his tongue in his cheek. "Ralof tells me that you stared at my wife through the entire ceremony. You made a point of visiting her yesterday and telling her things that have not helped her mood."

"I only wished to make peace between us," he said firmly, trying not to get angry. "I haven't truly spoken to her since she rode off on that dragon for Sovngarde."

"Because you weren't able to. One must wonder why you are able to now."

"We've been apart for six months."

"That is not an answer."

His upper lip twitching against his will, Vilkas said angrily, "I don't believe I owe you one."

Ulfric snorted and said, "Amazing. The fire is always close to the surface, isn't it? Just as it is with her. It's a wonder you two weren't always at each other's throats. Wolf and dragon, always struggling for dominance."

Vilkas' eyes narrowed. "We got along very well, when we were together."

"Yes, and that wasn't often, I'm sure."

"Why the hell are you doing this?" Vilkas asked in a hiss. "What do you want from me!"

"The truth."

"I have not lied to you."

"All right, I want the whole truth then."

"And again, I ask you why? What is the point!"

"Because something has changed and I would know what it is!" Ulfric stated, getting aggravated himself. All the other man's protestations were doing was making him more certain Vilkas was hiding something. "You two still love each other, fine, yes, everyone knows that. I can live with that. I told myself I would live with that when I wed her, and I have done so. But she talks in her sleep, much too often, and it is not me she's dreaming about. I come into a room and see her staring at nothing, her mind in another place entirely, probably Whiterun."

Vilkas made a sound of pain and whispered, "What am I supposed to do about that? I'm sorry, if that matters to you. I would never look at her or talk to her ever again if I thought that would change anything, but..." He stopped himself, seeing Ulfric's sea-colored eyes suddenly grow intent, as if latching onto his words.

"Yes, it won't change anything, will it? Won't change how either of you feel, won't change the final outcome of it all." Vilkas swallowed and leaned back slightly, looking uncomfortable. "You know, don't you?" Ulfric murmured. "Perhaps the housecarl didn't tell you, and I know Brynhilde didn't. So how do you know?" Vilkas looked away, and his lack of denial confirmed it. Somehow Vilkas knew what Bryn had seen in the Dragon Scroll, and somehow he had known before ever talking to Bryn yesterday. Ulfric had no idea how that was possible. The only other person who had known before Bryn had told Lydia last night had been Serana, and she wouldn't have told anyone, let alone Vilkas; the vampire didn't even know Vilkas. It all made no sense, yet he was sure Vilkas knew. "Well then. So somehow you know, and that drove you to speak to my wife yesterday. I will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume your intentions were pure—"

Vilkas growled, "What did you think my intentions were? I would not touch another man's wife!"

"Not even when you know that she'll be your wife someday?" Vilkas looked completely appalled, but not as much as he should have been, and he certainly wasn't surprised. "I want this in the open between us. I detest secrets and playing games. You and I both know that I am going to die. Brynhilde knows that I'm going to die. Even that vampire girl knows it, because she was there when Brynhilde saw it in the Elder Scroll. The Dragon Scroll. She saw the two of you together, with children. She refuses to tell me any more about what she saw, but you will tell me what you know and how you know it. I will hound you mercilessly until you tell me, Harbinger. I will make your life miserable, I vow it."

"You…son of a bitch!" Vilkas whispered in furious disbelief. Ulfric stared unflinchingly at him, his arms still folded, obstinate, and Vilkas couldn't help admiring the other man's persistence and his fearlessness in the face of almost certain death. But then this was the man who had faced the block at Helgen with his head held high. Vilkas finally shook his head and said, "How the hell can you be so calm!"

"Because by all rights I should be dead already." Vilkas' mouth fell open, and he went on, his voice touched with regret, "I was getting ready to attack Whiterun when Brynhilde first came to my city. Galmar and I were ready to start the war in earnest, though I'll admit Galmar was more ready than I was. No more skirmishes or feints, but large-scale battles to unseat the Jarls who would not claim fealty to me, starting with Balgruuf. Whiterun is crucial to controlling Skyrim, centrally located as it is. It's difficult to move troops through the country without passing through that hold. Brynhilde loves Whiterun, and she loves Balgruuf. She told me flat out, and she was right, that she would destroy any army I sent against the place she considered her home. She told me that Whiterun was the home of her heart and she would vigorously defend it." Vilkas nodded slowly, a slight frown on his face. "She would have declared for the Empire. We all know that. She would have had no stomach for wasting Nord lives, human lives, _any_ lives when it came down to it. Brother fighting brother, all ending up in Sovngarde just as dead. You cannot imagine how the things she saw and heard there haunted me. Still haunt me. The…waste of it all. Brynhilde would have chosen the Empire, to avoid any further waste. She would have seen to the heart of the issue, that I was the driving force behind the rebellion and that removing me and Galmar would put a swift end to it. Perhaps removing my commanders as well, but in the end she would have made quick surgical strikes to end the Stormcloak rebellion instead of allowing a protracted war to rage."

"Surgical strikes? You mean assassination. You're saying she would have assassinated you all." Vilkas sounded bewildered when he said it, but the moment it was said he knew it was true. Bryn would have avoided a long, drawn-out war by simply going in and killing those driving it. She had sneaked into the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary and slit the throats of sleeping assassins, so sneaking into a Stormcloak camp or the Palace of the Kings would have been an easy task for her, and yes, she would have saved potentially thousands of lives by doing so. Whether you called it assassination or not, it would have been the right thing to do. Just as sneaking into the orphanage and scaring Grelod to death had ended up being the right thing to do, even if it had been unintentional.

"I had dinner with her, or meant to, when she next came to Windhelm. I think it was not long after she wiped out the Dark Brotherhood, but it was before she first faced Alduin at the peak of the mountain. I took her cloak for her, to be gentlemanly, because she looked like a lady, and she suddenly stared at me like prey. I could tell she was thinking about killing me, right then and there. I think she nearly did, and yet something stopped her. Her pity for me stopped her. I assume she told you about the dossier she found."

"Yes." He left it at that, and Ulfric sighed heavily and nodded. Ulfric didn't need to know that he had read it too.

"I suppose at the time there was no reason she wouldn't have. It was the dossier that changed everything. I often think I was never meant to see it. A man would not have let a soft heart stop him from killing me. A male Dragonborn would have been more cold-blooded, I think. Alduin's wall showed a male Dragonborn, but some quirk of fate made the Dragonborn a woman, and that quirk of fate made her more capable of pity, of empathy, and changed everything." He huffed and unfolded one arm to scratch under his chin, saying sadly, "I've tried to comfort her, in my clueless male way, by telling her that this time I have with her is a gift, and that she has saved my soul instead of letting me go to Sovngarde as a detested murderer, or so half Skyrim thinks. Still thinks, I'm sure. I do not fear death. I haven't feared death since my time in Elenwen's clutches when I used to pray for it to claim me. However nothing I say or do comforts Brynhilde for long, and since reading the Scrolls there has been an edge to her that wasn't there before. As if she's holding panic at arm's length only by force of will, and the effort drains her, I can tell."

Vilkas murmured, "She told me that reading the Dragon Scroll broke something in her, and that you've only put splints and bandages over it."

Ulfric sighed, "Ah, precious. So I have. What a terrible thing for her to have to say." He nodded with his chin towards Vilkas and prompted, "So?" A look of pain crossed the other man's face. "I meant what I said. I won't let you be until you tell me what you know. I was there when Brynhilde read that Scroll. I heard the words she said, in that other time and place. The moth priest she sold the other two Scrolls to told us that due to her nature the Scrolls work differently for her. The priests only see text and hear a voice, and she did hear a voice, but it also showed her things. Let her be somewhere else, if only for few moments. It showed her the future."

"A possible future."

He snorted sadly. "Come now. We both know it's going to happen. The only question is when and where, and that is what distresses her. She feels it could come at any moment. I don't believe it will. I think we still have a few years ahead of us." He smiled wryly at Vilkas. "Sorry to make you wait."

"And _that_ is what I was trying to avoid," Vilkas replied in a heated tone. "I am not some vulture, circling the two of you waiting to swoop in and take advantage. I would rather be alone the rest of my life than see Bryn grieving. When I approached her today it was only to make peace, to let her know I wasn't going to make things difficult today, and to…to let her know that I wasn't angry, that I still cared."

"It didn't help matters any. You meant well, but all it did was remind her of that vision."

"If I had known she had seen it too I never would have done so!" He cursed his lack of control when Ulfric blinked owlishly, stunned.

"You saw it." Vilkas swallowed and shivered slightly, even though the evening was warm. "You _saw_ it?" Ulfric pressed, moving closer. "What did you see? Tell me, damn it!"

Vilkas whispered, "'Isn't she beautiful, Vilkas? She has your hair, _grohiiki,_ your mouth. Little cub, come see your baby sister.'" The other man stared at him with a blank expression, his blue-green eyes huge in his weathered face. "Sixteen nights ago, I had a dream. No, not a dream, it was as if I was there, living it. I was in a room I had never seen before in my life, a bedroom I've never even heard described to me. A large carved bed on a tiered wooden dais at the center of the room, and behind the bed was a lit fireplace, and at each corner of the room were stone columns, with the heads of ravens at the top." Ulfric's breath caught as his eyes got even bigger, if that were possible. "I had a blond little boy in my arms, a toddler of only two at the most, and he was hiding his face in my neck. Maybe he was afraid. Bryn was in the bed, lying on her side with a newborn girl in her hands, and a healer in priest's robes was leaving the room." He left out the part about the priest being a male Dunmer. Ulfric wouldn't take that well, if any of this could be taken well. He went on, "I thought it was the Divines tormenting me. Punishing me by showing me something I could never have, but I told Lydia about the dream, and she knew the room."

"Our room," Ulfric whispered. He licked his lips, shaking his head. "Brynhilde didn't tell me anything about the room. I can tell when she's hiding things from me, and she told me everything she saw." He laughed humorlessly. "So Lydia already knew when she talked to Brynhilde." And hadn't show a hint of knowledge when she'd looked at Ulfric. The housecarl was quite the cool one.

"Yes, but she didn't know Bryn had seen it too until I talked to her right before that. She told me nothing that the two of them talked about last night, other than to tell me what _grohiiki_ meant. Bryn…she never called me that, when we were together. That was how I knew it was more than a dream, that and Lydia recognizing my description of the room." He continued intently, "I don't want Bryn to know that I know. I don't want to make it any worse, and this will. We both know it will."

"Yes, unfortunately you're right." He sighed heavily. So the Elder Scroll had caught up Vilkas in the vision as well, his mind probably open to it since he was asleep. It did make that future seem truly inevitable, and it made him reluctant to even consider having children with Bryn. He could only imagine how much worse it would be for her- He blinked as a twinge of dread finally hit him. A blond little boy. _Little cub…_ That changed things. Thinking the boy might be his…by the Nine, that hurt. It would be one thing to leave Bryn behind, knowing she would have Vilkas to turn to and could build a family and a future with the other man, but to think about leaving behind a child of his own for another man to raise, a child he would never get to see grow up, was hard to contemplate without sorrow. It was always possible the boy wasn't his, but he couldn't help thinking it was, and it saddened him in a way that hadn't affected him before. He quietly asked Vilkas, "So you're determined then? To be there for her, if and when it happens?"

"Yes, of course."

"No matter what?"

Frowning, Vilkas stated, "There is nothing that would stop me from doing so."

"Not even if she becomes Empress?"

"Empress," he whispered, his frown deepening.

"The Dragon Scroll told her that dragon blood will rule over White-Gold Tower once more. What does that sound like to you? She is the only living Dragonborn, the last that will ever be gifted directly by Akatosh. The Emperor is coming here specifically to meet her. He didn't do that for Torygg, or his father Istlod. It is not simply a courtesy call." He had to tell Vilkas this now, give him as much time as possible to come to terms with the idea.

_Empress,_ Vilkas thought numbly. Empress Brynhilde. And what would he be then? A consort? He supposed that was what Ulfric was, technically: Prince Consort of Skyrim. Vilkas had accustomed himself to that idea over the last two weeks, becoming the consort to the High Queen, wondering how he would manage running the Companions from Windhelm and deciding that he would simply find a way and make the occasional trip to Whiterun to see to things personally. But leaving Skyrim to move to the Imperial City? In that vision he was in Windhelm, but that was no guarantee they would stay there. Titus Mede II was in his early sixties and still hale, for a Colovian, so it might not happen until much later.

"And that blond child," Ulfric pressed mercilessly. "What if it is mine?" Vilkas made a scoffing sound of disbelief, his eyes wide, then he rubbed his forehead, bewildered. "I will not have my wife live on false hope. It's cruel. You will take the entire package, no matter what it entails, or you will take none of it." Vilkas glared at him, looking deeply troubled as his hands fell to his sides. Well, he should be troubled. "If that dark-haired daughter of yours is a newborn when the boy is barely two, do the math. The boy will be only a little over a year old when Brynhilde conceives your daughter. Perhaps he will be your son and my worries are for nothing, but if the boy is mine, would you care for him? Be a father to him?"

Affronted, Vilkas stated in a shaking voice, "Why would I not? What kind of question is that? Do you think me that shallow, that I would walk away from her and a baby, because I'm not the blood father? I nearly adopted a child from the Orphanage today, that Aretino boy, because I felt sorry for him and thought he could use my guidance, so why wouldn't I still marry Bryn and help raise her child? If losing you would nearly destroy her, what do you think it would do to her to be left with a fatherless baby to raise alone? You truly think I would walk away from her because all the conditions aren't just so? That…that offends me." The little boy had felt like he was Vilkas' though, and had clung to him with all the love and trust that a child should have for their father. He wasn't at all convinced that the boy wasn't his. Dark-haired folk had blond children all the time, and Bryn was blond.

"Good." Vilkas sputtered and shook his head at Ulfric, his upper lip twitching and his eyes narrowed. He smirked at him and said, "Feel however you will about me, as long as I know my treasure will be taken care of. We have all three of us become tangled up in this…comedy of errors, and we must get through it as best we can."

"This is no comedy. There is nothing even vaguely amusing about any of this."

Ulfric shrugged and turned away towards the privy, and Vilkas growled and quickly walked away, so riled that he didn't dare return to the party right now. He instead walked along the back wall of the city, taking the long way, passing a guard on the way who looked at him warily then nodded in recognition, greeting him by his title then moving on. Yes, he was the Harbinger, no matter what else happened, and by Ysgramor he always would be, until he died or stepped down, and he didn't plan on either happening for a very long time. He glanced at the shrine of Talos as he passed it, feeling a fresh chill at the thought of Bryn becoming Empress. He was sure she wanted that to happen even less than he did. Well, if it happened then by the Divines he would simply have to deal with it. He refused to walk away to spare himself. He might have refused her offer of marriage but he had never walked away from her, and once he had realized he was losing her he had quickly changed his tune. He had tried again before she left for Skuldafn and Sovngarde. He would have tried again if given the chance when she returned. It made him want to tell her that he had never gotten the letter, if only to reassure her.

Wondering if maybe he should find some way of telling her, he stopped for a moment to look at the boarded-up gate. He hadn't heard either way as to whether Maven was planning to reopen it, and hoped she didn't. Two ways in and out of a city was enough, and with the two canal gates as well as Honeyside's back entrance and the doorway out to the docks, Riften was highly vulnerable. Only the healthy number of guards patrolling the area made it halfway safe. He walked towards the marketplace, seeing it was still bustling in the waning late afternoon light, the merchants who had attended the wedding back at their stalls. He leaned on the railing near the Bee and Barb, looking down at the canal, watching a small school of Cyrodiilic Spadetails swimming below, the males flashing red as the fish turned as a group to head a different direction. Watching them dart back and forth started letting some of the irritation finally seep out of him.

"Tired of the party, hm?" Vilkas looked up, and a pretty blond woman leaned against the railing next to him and murmured with a warm smile, "I could show you a better one, Companion."

He laughed quietly, feeling an unwilling blush climb up his cheeks at the offer, the first he had gotten since…well, it had been a long time. A very long time. Since he had started seeing Bryn a year and a half ago. The woman was lovely, close to his age, with an Amulet of Dibella. He knew exactly who she was; Torvar had fallen to Haelga's snares a few years ago and had come back out of the Bunkhouse with a baffled look on his face muttering something about shackles and a horker tusk, refusing to say anything further about it. "I eh, appreciate the offer," he said. "Maybe some other time." As in never. It would certainly be easy, with no strings attached, but this wasn't the time or place, and he had to wonder if it ever would be. He definitely wasn't in the mood for it right now, and not with Bryn here in the same town. He wasn't sure how he could ever do it with what he knew now. He wasn't sure he could do it at all regardless. No other woman had even registered with him once he'd tasted the Dragonborn. It was laughable that he had ever thought he could move on enough to be with another, even casually.

Haelga turned to lean sideways on the railing and said, "Come now, Harbinger. You're a free man, and I'm a very free woman. I have nothing to do for the next hour. Surely you won't be missed."

"For an hour?" He laughed shortly, annoyed. "You must not think much of me or my shield-siblings to think I can disappear for an hour and no one will think anything of it."

"Half an hour then." He sighed and shook his head. She trailed her fingers up his arm to his shoulder and gently grabbed it as she leaned in closer, whispering, "In even fifteen minutes I could show you such wonders of the Dibellan arts, Vilkas. Even a man as…well-traveled as you can still learn a thing or two."

"Thank you, no. I have to get back to the party."

His clipped tones made her eyebrows rise, and she put her arm through his, feeling him tense as his eyes narrowed. "Well then, Harbinger, could you walk a lady home? It's on your way."

"Yes, of course," he muttered. He knew damn well she didn't need the escort, safe as the town now was and guards everywhere, and he was sure she knew how to use the sword on her hip. Well at least now he was irritated with her instead of Ulfric, though he was certain that the moment he saw Ulfric it would all come back to him quite easily. He stood away from the railing and offered Haelga his arm, and when they started walking he felt his heart go into his throat to see Bryn turn and hurry away quickly across his field of vision, Ralof on her heels. The young man shot Vilkas a dirty look as he went after his Queen, and Vilkas practically ground his teeth, his mood now irrevocably foul. Of course this probably looked exactly like what Bryn feared it was. The timing was just fantastic.

He delivered Haelga to her door then shook off her persistent grip and headed towards Honeyside a short distance away, seeing Ralof standing guard at the door, his arms crossed and bright blue eyes narrowed. "I want to talk to her," Vilkas demanded. He could hear the faintest rumble inside the house and could only imagine that Bryn was in there crying her eyes out, thinking he was sleeping around. She had probably gone outside after Ulfric, wondering where he was, and then had seen Vilkas in Haelga's clutches and assumed the worst. Well, he was flattered that it upset her, though he regretted it, but surely she realized that it wasn't exactly fair of her to be married to another man and expect him to sleep alone. She didn't really have the right to weep over it, though he supposed it had to be hard to see him with another woman right in front of her. Even if nothing had been going on. How could she think he would do that here and now!

"No Harbinger, I don't think so," Ralof replied.

"It wasn't what it looked like!"

"What does it matter if it was? You're free to dally with whomever you like."

"I wasn't dallying, you… Ugh, _you_ tell her then. I was only walking that woman home, because she insisted on it, when I turned her down." And he was rather annoyed that she had tried to hang onto him like that. As if she was going to drag him into her lair and have her way with him.

Ralof scowled at him and said in a lowered voice, "What you choose to do, or not, in your personal time is not the concern of my Jarl's wife." He realized his error when Vilkas snorted and shook his head.

"So that is how it is, then. You still answer to Ulfric, is that it? Telling him I spent the entire ceremony watching her. Have you been reporting back to him after every outing? You can't serve two masters, boy. You're either the Queen's man or you're still a Stormcloak. Which are you?"

"I serve Queen Brynhilde," Ralof stated, keeping his voice even with an effort. "Everyone knows that, especially my lady." He hoped she knew that.

"Sure they do. Well, it's good that she trusts you. You had better be worthy of it, whelp." Ralof glared at him, and he demanded in a growl, "You will tell her. Promise me you will tell her right damn now, or I swear by the Nine Divines I will go tell Ulfric myself, and he will come here and see her crying and want to know why you wouldn't tell her. You go in there and tell her and make her stop crying, and you make her go back to the party. I'm going upstairs with a book and staying there the rest of the night, so I won't be around to make things difficult."

Ralof's jaw twitched as he stared at the older man, who was dead serious. Vilkas really would do it. He would drag Ulfric into this, and of course it could only make Ralof look bad. Vilkas waited, and he finally muttered, "All right then, fine." Vilkas stared at him with narrowed eyes a few seconds longer then turned away and returned to Aerin's house, where he turned back and waited at the door, watching Ralof, and the young man finally huffed and went inside, resenting the Harbinger for this. The man was so damn pushy, and he was also the root of any tension between Ulfric and the Queen. Something had been wrong with the Queen ever since the reading of the Elder Scrolls, and Vilkas wasn't helping matters.

He locked the door behind him, not fully trusting that Vilkas wouldn't come back, and he sighed sadly to see the Queen face down on the bed, her face buried in a pillow, only the occasional choked sob escaping with a rumble of thunder. Grimacing, he went to her and cleared his throat, and when she didn't respond he awkwardly said, "Eh, my lady…it ah, it wasn't what it looked like." Her only response was a muted wail into the pillow, and he bit his lip in dread then reached down and patted her shoulder, hoping his gauntlets wouldn't leave any marks on the fine silk. He had agreed to stay armored so that Hadvar could have the night off after the party, though the other Guard was still armed and on duty right now. He knelt down at the side of the bed and said, "My lady, he came straight here. Vilkas. He said… he wasn't at all doing what it looked like. I eh, I told him what he did was his own business, but he swears he was only walking her home because she made him, after he told her no."

"As if I'm supposed to believe that!"

"I'm sure…er, well, surely he wouldn't do that here and now. I…" He sighed heavily. He had to admit that he didn't believe Vilkas had been heading to Haelga's Bunkhouse for a tryst. Well, the Queen had stated numerous times that she valued honesty, and by the gods he was going to have to be honest. He steeled himself and went on, "I don't like seeing you hurt, my lady, but…this business between you and Vilkas, it isn't good." He heard her weeping falter at that, and he decided to take it as a promising sign. "I swore to myself that I would place you before all others, including Jarl Ulfric, but I don't want him getting hurt either. He loves you more than anything." The Dragonborn was a priceless gift that had fallen into Ulfric's lap, and Ulfric knew it. The Jarl didn't call her precious and his treasure for nothing.

"I know that."

The choked statement made him grimace, and he muttered, "I'm sorry, my Queen. It isn't my place to say anything. I…overstepped."

"Well it isn't like you're my f-friend or…any…thing…"

"My lady!" he whispered, horrified by her statement and fresh miserable sobbing. She pulled the other pillow over her head, and he asked, "Should I get Jarl Ulfric?" She didn't answer, and he nervously climbed to his feet, at a loss. He couldn't leave her alone, hated the thought of just leaving her here weeping, but he didn't know what to do. She was right; he wasn't her friend. Under different circumstances he could have been, but she was Dragonborn and the High Queen of Skyrim, and it wasn't his place to be her friend. Obviously she needed one though. He had to admit that he had seen her trying to form some kind of friendship with Serana and it hadn't gone all that well; the vampire had tried to respond but didn't really know how. Well, she had friends here, right now, in Riften, and they could deal with this.

He exited Honeyside and saw Hadvar guarding the door to Aerin's house across the way, and he motioned to him to come over. It wasn't as if Ulfric was in any danger with a houseful of Companions around him. Hadvar arrived with a frown, asking, "What's going on? Vilkas came in gloomy and said he had a headache and went upstairs." He lowered his voice and added, "Jarl Ulfric had a long discussion with him a few minutes ago, back by the privy. It didn't look to be a comfortable one."

"The Queen is crying her eyes out over him," Ralof murmured. "She thought she saw Vilkas hooking up with Haelga and completely fell apart."

Hadvar wrinkled his nose. "The Harbinger doesn't strike me as the kind of man to fall prey to such crude charms."

"Sometimes a man just wants a quick, easy lay. You know that as well as I do." Hadvar rolled his eyes. "I know, I know, that wasn't what he was doing. He made a point of coming over here to explain. He wanted to talk to the Queen, and there's no damn way I'm allowing that. The man is going to end up causing problems." And it was wrong of the Queen to be weeping over another man. Very wrong.

"Whatever problems there are, they aren't entirely of his doing. The Jarl is…" He shook his head. "I don't know what he's doing, but he is the one who pursued Vilkas. You must not have noticed, but he's been watching Vilkas for the last hour. He saw the Harbinger heading for the privy and followed him out there. Ambushed him, frankly."

"Why?"

"Because there is much more going on between the three of them than you and I are aware of, that's why."

"Vilkas spent the entire ceremony staring at our lady. At another man's wife."

"And you told Ulfric so, didn't you." It wasn't a question, and Ralof didn't deny it. "Ulfric wasn't angry when he confronted… No, confronted isn't the right word. They were…hashing something out. I couldn't hear a word of it, only the tone of voice occasionally, but it was as if the two of them were haggling over something. Jarl Ulfric wanted something from the Harbinger. Whatever it was he seemed to get it, because he calmly went into the privy and Vilkas stormed off."

Ralof sighed and said, "Okay, so what now? I tried to talk to the Queen and tell her how it really was with Vilkas and when I thought I overstepped my bounds she said I wasn't her friend."

"Ouch."

"Not like that. It was as if she was admitting that she knew I couldn't be. She's lonely, I think."

Hadvar sighed, "I've noticed. The poor thing misses female company, and I don't consider Serana female beyond the superficial. I've gotten used to her, but she's an undead creature, not a girl. I've seen the Queen try to confide in her and end up nothing but frustrated." He looked warily at the door as he added, "Let me go in and try. I don't want to disturb the wedding party with this."

Ralof said with regret, "She does seem to relate better to you."

Hadvar nearly said _Because I'm not a straight, pretty blonde_ but knew it wouldn't go over well. They weren't quite to that point in their mending friendship yet, and it was something that probably shouldn't be said regardless. He kept his mouth shut and headed into the small house, and he sighed heavily in pity to see Bryn weeping softly, a pillow over her head. He went to her and knelt at the side of the bed, laying his hand on her shoulder. "My Queen," he said softly, and when she didn't respond he went on, "Brynhilde, please." Her crying stopped for a moment, and when another little sob escaped he said, "Come now, my lady. Sit up and let me get you a drink. You're going to worry everyone."

"Good, they should worry, because I wish I was dead."

He shook his head, glad that he was the one that had come back in here. Ralof would have panicked over that melodramatic statement and gone running to Ulfric. The Jarl didn't need to see his wife crying over another man, even if he was the indirect cause of it; whatever he had said to Vilkas had caused the Harbinger to go off in a huff instead of returning to the wedding party, leaving him vulnerable to Haelga's advances, which Hadvar knew damn well Vilkas had rejected. He patted Bryn's back and said, "I'm sorry things have turned out like this. I can't guess at how horrible it must be, getting torn in two."

"I wish I had never gone to Ulfric. I should have gone back to Whiterun after Sovngarde, like Dinya told me to. Maybe if I had Vilkas would have been willing to work things out."

Hadvar said with misgiving, "He seems unusually willing to do so now, my lady, and it's causing problems." He paused and added, "And unfortunately Jarl Ulfric is adding to it." Bryn peeked out from under the pillow, and he clucked his tongue at how red her eyes were. He pulled on the pillow and she let him take it, and after tossing it aside he pulled gently on her arm. She allowed it, letting him pull her into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He held his hands out for her to stay there and went to get her a bottle of mead. He popped off the cork and handed it to her, and she sniffed and took a drink. He steeled himself then quietly said, "My first loyalty is to you, my lady. My _only_ loyalty. Ralof loves you, and he's loyal to you, but I think a good chunk of his heart still belongs to Ulfric."

"I know," Bryn replied sullenly. She trusted Ralof with her life, and had begun to love him like a younger brother, but she knew that he still put thoughts of Ulfric before her at times. She loved Hadvar too, and unfortunately he was the one she trusted most. He had an air of maturity to him Ralof hadn't had the chance to acquire yet, and that wasn't entirely a product of age.

"He told Ulfric that Vilkas was watching you through the entire ceremony. It caused Ulfric to go outside and confront the Harbinger. The two of them were having a discussion, one I couldn't hear. They didn't yell or seem like they were truly arguing, but Vilkas wasn't pleased at the end and walked away."

She rubbed her eyes and said, "Probably another of their secret discussions, deciding what's best for me." Hadvar looked puzzled, and she laughed bitterly and said, "I forget you didn't know that. At the Moot, before I was declared High Queen, Ulfric approached Vilkas to clear the air between them. Ulfric tells me that Vilkas gave us his blessing, that he told Ulfric to marry me. But more was said than that, I know it. There's something going on between them, involving me, and I'm going to get it out of one of them before this trip is over."

He hesitated, shocked that they would go behind her back, then he said, "I think you'd have the right, my lady. In fact it might be best to get it out of them both at the same time."

Bryn stared at him for a moment then sniffed and asked, "You really think so?"

"Yes, I do." When he paused Bryn patted the bed next to her, and the needy, vulnerable look made the thought of denying her impossible. So she had no female friend to confide in when they were away from home; well, he was far from female, even if his being a lover of men was a large part of the reason she was comfortable with him, but he would do his best to be some kind of comfort to her, even if he couldn't be a true friend to her as she needed. He shifted his sword out of the way and sat down about a foot away from her. "If you confront them both at once, they won't have the chance to collude. Not that I'm saying they were, mind you."

"So what really happened?"

"Well, Ralof said that Vilkas was watching you through the entire ceremony. After about an hour into the party I saw the Harbinger go outside, and Ulfric nudged me and said he needed to use the privy, so I followed the Jarl outside as well. He…well, there's no easy way of putting this: he ambushed Vilkas. I was thirty, forty feet away along the wall, behind the houses, so I could hear the tone of voice and see their faces. Ulfric was the one being confrontational, but he didn't seem angry. Vilkas was the one who seemed to be, but towards the end he…" Hadvar shook his head, looking puzzled. "He got the strangest look on his face…sorrow, regret, I can't say, but he whispered something to the Jarl, and Ulfric seemed… stunned, for lack of a better word. Then he moved close to Vilkas and seemed to press him for something, demand something from him, and he must have been satisfied with it. Vilkas walked away in a huff and the Jarl went into the privy. When we came back to the party you were already gone. I stayed outside, so I don't know if the Jarl has noticed yet that you aren't there."

Bryn took in a deep breath then slowly let it out, and as she took a deep drink of mead and let the cold seep through her she felt her grief and loss start turning to hurt and aggravation. So her two beloveds were conspiring together, again. She was sure they had nothing but the best of intentions in doing so, but she wasn't a child. If Ulfric had thought her fit to be High Queen then he should believe her strong enough to deal with whatever secret he was keeping from her. That they were both keeping from her. Lydia had been right last night that no matter how Bryn agonized over things, in the end she always moved on and did what she had to. Well, this was another of those times.

When Hadvar scratched the back of his neck Bryn's eyes moved to him, and when he gazed back steadily she stated, "I value you, Hadvar. A great deal."

He smiled at her and replied, "I'm flattered and honored, my Queen."

"I should have stayed with the Companions," she said with wistful regret. "I miss that life." Missed the sense of family and belonging. They still considered her one of them, but she wasn't, really. She couldn't be ever again.

"But would it have been enough?" She snorted a sad laugh and took a drink from the bottle. Of course it wouldn't have been, not for long. The Dragonborn were always ambitious, restless. "Vilkas is a good Harbinger, my lady. So was Kodlak, but Vilkas is doing more with them than Kodlak ever attempted. I don't think being Harbinger would have been challenge enough for you for very long."

"I will have challenges enough to suit me once we get rid of Harkon and his coven. My future will be all the challenge I can handle." She left it at that; Hadvar didn't need to know she might become Empress one day. She still couldn't wrap her mind around that herself. She debated telling Hadvar about her vision but quickly decided against it. The fewer people who knew the better. She certainly wasn't telling Ralof.

Bryn stuck the cork back in the bottle and handed it to him, and as he rose to put it back on the table he asked, "Do you think you can go back, my lady?"

"Yes, I think so."

"If it helps, Vilkas said he had a headache and was going upstairs to read a book."

She snorted and rose from the bed. "Yes, I'm sure." Probably thinking he was sparing her. Well, maybe he was. She cast a brief spell of healing to deal with her reddened eyes and nose and burgeoning headache, a very real one. Her dress was a bit wrinkled, but not so much that it would draw attention. "I wish I had never married Ulfric, Hadvar. Does that make me a terrible person?"

"I suppose it would depend on your reasons, my lady."

Bryn's eyebrows rose in surprise then she laughed. Her smile faded as she stood, saying, "I love Ulfric dearly. I would never be unfaithful to him. Ever."

"Everyone knows that, I assure you."

"I rushed into marrying him. I rushed into his bed. I should have done the smart thing and given myself time, and instead I went to him wanting him to comfort me and make me forget about Vilkas. It makes me feel like I've used him."

"Now that is…I'm sorry, but that's foolishness, my lady," Hadvar said with a shake of his head. "Forgive me for being frank—"

"That's something I wish you would be much more often."

He gazed at her and she stared back earnestly. Intently. Well then, he would be frank with her, out of the public eye. He would be as much of a friend to her as their stations allowed and try to keep a balance there. She couldn't have that with Ralof, and most likely didn't want it, but if she wanted it from Hadvar then he would give it. It wasn't as if he was reluctant to. The two of them got along easily, just as they had through Helgen and on the way to Riverwood, even as reticent as she had been about talking about herself. He nodded and went on, "Then in the interest of being frank, Ulfric is getting the much better end of the deal."

"Yes, you aren't the first person who's told me that." She huffed and folded her arms. "I just want to know what he and Vilkas are up to. What point is there in the two of them talking behind my back, and why is Ulfric the one instigating it? Both times?"

"It's easy for him to be generous considering everything he has garnered from you going to him, my lady. His life, a pardon for him and his men, marriage to you, a chance to repair his reputation, a possible heir. Still, there's something more there. I'm sorry to say this, but…I don't know why it should matter so much to the Harbinger that you, ah, saw him with another woman, innocent as it was. I understand why it upset you, my lady, but…from what I've heard, he was the one who refused to marry you. Twice. If so, why is he still so troubled? I saw the look in his eyes when he saw you at the forge. As if he's still grieving, half a year later. That isn't the behavior of a man who refused a woman's love."

Bryn nodded slowly, a lump in her throat. "The first time I asked him to marry me, after facing Alduin at the Throat of the World…when he realized I was leaving because of it he panicked and said that he would marry me, begged me not to leave him, and I was so full of hurt and pride that I wouldn't listen," she explained. "All I could think about was how if I accepted he would end up resenting me one day for forcing his hand. Then I prayed to Mara for her compassion, to give me some peace, just long enough to get rid of Alduin, and when it was done, the moment it all came back to me I nearly threw myself off the mountain thinking about how cold I was to him, and after that I was too afraid to face him again. I came here to Riften and couldn't stop thinking about him, missing him. I wrote him a letter, asking him to forgive me and take me back, to come here and marry me, and I got no response at all."

Frowning, he stated, "That doesn't seem Vilkas' way. I don't know him well, but he seems too direct for that, my lady. To just leave you hanging, with no explanation?"

"No, it doesn't, but still, that's what happened. I sent his letter with one to Lydia and Farkas, by the same courier. Lydia knows I sent him a letter, and she said that he never said a word about it." She had often considered tracking down that courier, but they all looked the same to her and frequently switched around assignments, so she couldn't be sure which one had delivered the letter, and in the end it was pointless: couriers always delivered their letters. Always. The only time they didn't was when they got killed, and then of course all the letters they carried were lost, not just a single one. Well, maybe she would get that out of Vilkas too, just simply ask him why he didn't do her the courtesy responding with a simple no instead of ignoring her. The three of them were going to air out their stinky laundry once and for all before this trip was over.

Bryn went downstairs to get Auriel's Bow to show Aela as promised, figuring that would be as good an excuse for her absence as any. As she exited Honeyside with Hadvar in tow she patted Ralof on the shoulder, murmuring, "Thank you, Ralof."

"Yes my lady," he said with a nod, following after the other two. Clearly whatever Hadvar had said had snapped her out of it, something Ralof hadn't been able to do, but then he supposed he hadn't tried very hard. Hadvar was just better with words in general, probably from spending a decade around silver-tongued Imperials who could talk a snake out of its skin.

Bryn smiled as several Companions greeted her as she went back inside the house, the front door now left hanging open to let some of the heat out. She clapped Erik on the back as she passed and the young redhead beamed at her. Ulfric was nowhere to be seen but might have been downstairs getting something else to drink; the basement hadn't actually been full of skeever droppings, though some small rats had been seen in there, easy enough to clean up. She headed straight for Aela, who was sitting at the top of the upper stairs nursing Skjorta, Mjoll sitting on the next step up with her legs on either side of her, playing with her new wife's auburn hair. Both women smiled at her, but Aela's eyes lit up at the sight of the gold and silver bow. Bryn held it out to her on both palms and Aela greedily plucked it from her grasp.

The Huntress weighed in one hand then marveled, "It's so light!"

"Yes, about half the weight of that clunky dragonbone bow I've been carting around for months."

"Well it's spectacular. Not too shiny outdoors, I hope?"

"Oh no. No glare comes off it." Unless she shot the sun with one of the arrows Gelebor had blessed for her. She didn't usually use Elven arrows but had found a large number of them during that adventure, so she had about a hundred Sunhallowed arrows, some of which she would take with her to fight Harkon and his vampires.

Mjoll said in approval, "Magnificent. Better hope you don't piss off the god and have it disappear inconveniently, eh?" Bryn laughed and nodded at that. Aela handed up the bow and Mjoll held it up close to look at the vining pattern on it. "To think this is the direct handiwork of a Divine...marvelous! I would like to see the shield tomorrow if you have time."

"Yes, definitely. We aren't leaving until the day after." Her eyes went past Mjoll to a closed door, Aerin's room.

"Yes, he's in there," Mjoll stated quietly, "probably sulking. As if any of us believe he has a headache."

"Let him be," Aela demanded just as softly. She was rather surprised her usually-loud partner was being so discreet. The packed house was full of enough noise to keep their conversation fairly drowned out, though it was a bit much for Aela's sensitive ears. The house was much too small for this many people, but they were all here to celebrate her wedding, and she couldn't begrudge that. Still, she would be glad to be out in the wilds again. Skjorta fit handily in a sling now that she could hold her head up and with a couple shield-siblings along Aela should finally be able to start hunting with a bow again.

"I have, but Mara's sake, give it a rest already. The man has this ridiculous capacity for self-torment that borders on the pathological. It's been months; he needs to let it go." She handed the bow back to Bryn, and the young woman took it back and slung it over her shoulder, staring at Mjoll with that intent, measuring expression that unsettled so many. Well, Mjoll didn't get unsettled, and Bryn was a good friend.

Bryn murmured, "I've never asked you this, Mjoll, and I promise I won't ask ever again…"

"Ask away, my friend."

"Did Vilkas ever say anything when you first went to Whiterun?" Mjoll's expression grew a bit wary at that. "I love my husband and won't let anything interfere in our marriage, but I'm going to have a good long talk with him and Vilkas tomorrow, together."

"Together!"Aela said in dismay. "Good lord girl, you're a glutton for punishment!"

"Yes I am. I have just as endless a capacity for that as Vilkas does, it seems." She looked at Mjoll and prompted, "So? I don't need details, I just want to know why he didn't answer me. My letter."

"Letter," Mjoll whispered with a frown. "What letter? He never said a word about any letter. He said…" Bryn's eyes grew more intent, and she went on with a slow shake of her head, "This isn't the time or the place, my friend."

"I won't make a scene. I won't ruin your wedding party. All I want to know is why he didn't answer the letter I sent him when I was here. I sent it to him a few days after you went to Whiterun to see Aela. Dinya told me to go see him, and like an idiot I didn't, so I sent a letter instead, along with one to Farkas and Lydia."

Mjoll hesitated, weighing her words and Bryn's demeanor. She didn't seem too upset. Not upset enough to ruin the party anyway. "All right. I never heard anything about any letter. I didn't know you had sent one until just now. But not long after Skjorta was born, when the Moot was announced, I heard him arguing with Farkas about something. When I came out Farkas was gone. I think that was the day Vilkas finally decided to start wearing the ebony, and Farkas was taking it to Eorlund to fix up. I… well, I wasn't very tactful—" Aela barked out a laugh, startling the baby. "Yes, yes, we all know I'm awful. Sometimes I even realize it. I got annoyed with his pouting and told him you two had your shot and it was over, that all your praying and crying here in Riften was just as bad, and…oh boy…"

Worried, Bryn asked warily, "What? What did he say?" Mjoll never acted like this. Nervous. As if she'd suddenly realized something.

"He said he couldn't read minds, or something like that. He said that you were praying for him to magically appear and that he had no way to know you still wanted him after Sovngarde. He said that all it would have taken was seeing you again, or…a letter, some hint that you still wanted him, and he would have gone to you, but that you gave him nothing."

Bryn trembled slightly, her body stiff, and when she kept staring at Mjoll, Aela stated, "I'm sorry, but Vilkas never said a word about a letter. No one did. Not even Farkas or Lydia, though I knew they had gotten one."

Mjoll shook her head at Bryn and said, "I wish you had let me talk to him when I went back there. I never should have agreed to stay out of it. Everything he has said since then, how he's acted… it's like he didn't know there was a letter. I don't see how that's possible, but…well, stranger things have happened, we both know that." She braced herself for Bryn to react, for her to storm up the stairs, in which case Mjoll would have to tackle her, Queen or not, or for her to burst into tears, something, but instead after a moment Bryn simply closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if willing herself not to make a scene. Mjoll reached out and took her hand, and when she gave it a tug Bryn sighed heavily and let Mjoll pull her down next to Aela. Bryn sighed and leaned against Mjoll, who put her arm around the girl and hugged her close. "I'm sorry, my friend," Mjoll said with regret. "Life is messy sometimes, yeah?"

"Yeah," Bryn mumbled.

Aela clucked her tongue and turned slightly, putting the baby on her shoulder to burp. She pulled her tunic closed and asked Bryn with worry, "What are you going to do, sister?"

"What can I do? I'm married to Ulfric, and I love him. I'll just…keep doing what I'm doing." Until her vision came true, if it did. Marriage was forever, nearly impossible to dissolve except under the most extreme circumstances, and it wasn't easy to prove to a priest of Mara that a marriage couldn't be saved. She wasn't even going to ask for their advice; she was sure Dinya would give her a big, giant _I told you so!_ if she even brought it up. She should have gone to Whiterun and faced Vilkas in person as the priestess insisted she do, and maybe it would have hurt and been awkward at first, but knowing what she knew now… How she wished she had trusted Vilkas more. She should have trusted that he wouldn't resent her later for forcing him into a panicked agreement to marry her, and barring that she should have trusted that he would take her back after Sovngarde, should have trusted that he wouldn't recoil in horror from the changes she had endured. She had the feeling that her entire problem hadn't really been not trusting Vilkas, but instead her own pathetic self-esteem. After all, what man wouldn't resent her, or not be revolted by what she was? Only Ulfric, who was lonely and damaged, and understood the Dragonborn because of his youthful training. Well, for better or worse she did love Ulfric, and he had been good for her. He had helped make her what she was now, even if she was still a work in progress.

Aela sighed sadly as Bryn laid her head on Mjoll's breast and the Lioness hugged her again. Aela leaned against Mjoll's other side and petted Bryn's fair hair, Mjoll holding them both close. It was warm and comforting, though it was hard to say how much comfort Bryn could ever really take from anything or anyone. She told her, "You always have safe harbor in Jorrvaskr, Shield-Sister. Always. Vilkas wouldn't deny you that."

"I know," Bryn whispered. "I wish I had never left. It's the only place that's ever felt like home." At least after the last couple days she knew that if she wanted to visit Jorrvaskr she could. Vilkas would make himself scarce just as he was doing now. She heard men's voices coming from the stairs below, Farkas and Ulfric, along with the clanking of bottles, and it made her smile sadly. Ulfric had certainly taken a shine to Farkas, but then it was hard not to. She heard Torvar's happy exclamation as he snagged a couple bottles, and when he caught sight of the women on the stairs and backed up she couldn't help laughing at the lascivious look on his face.

Torvar stood at the foot of the stairs and said with lewd delight, "Well well well, if this isn't a sight to give a man sweet dreams."

"Dreams are all you'll get out of it, sot," Aela stated in annoyance.

"Now now, sister, I'm not even half drunk yet. I've been good lately."

"So you have, and tonight isn't the time to start back up."

"I promised the twins I wouldn't." He winked at Bryn and added, "I also promised Farkas I would get you dancing before the night was over."

She smiled at him and said, "Well then, I would hate for you to break your promise." She kissed Mjoll on the cheek then Aela on the forehead, hearing a very male chuckle from Torvar, then she stood and took his offered hand. She didn't really feel like dancing, but if anyone could make her forget her cares for a bit it was Torvar, and no doubt Farkas would dance with her too. She saw him setting out the bottles of mead on the feast table along with Ulfric, the two chatting amiably. As she glanced around the packed house she saw Lydia talking to Athis, the Dunmer's red hair down and loose as it rarely was. She was satisfied to see Hadvar leaning against the wall talking to Aerin, who was smiling at him with a slight blush. Ralof was just outside the open door, standing guard, though it didn't stop him from being the focus of both Ria's and Njada's attentions. Erik was flirting with Iona, not entirely successfully from the skeptical look on the housecarl's face.

Torvar called to Athis, "Hey there, time to break out the flute. Our Shield-Sister here is just dying to have a dance."

"Is she," Athis said, not at all convinced of that. He shrugged and pulled his wooden flute out from where it was tucked in his belt and began to play a light tune.

Bryn handed the bow to Iona then Torvar suddenly spun her around, making her let out a squeal of surprise. She tried to lose herself in dancing, not at all successfully, but it was enjoyable, and when Farkas stole her away from Torvar after a few minutes she went along, feeling her mood lighten a bit. She could see Ulfric watching and smiling, seeming oblivious to her still-stewing thoughts and her brief absence. Ulfric wasn't a dancer and hadn't danced at their wedding, though he had clapped along and enjoyed watching her dance with others. Mjoll soon joined in with her drum and Hadvar bowed to Lydia for a dance, and she laughed and accepted with a curtsy. Bryn saw Ria take pity on Erik and grab his arm and pull him along, and seeing so many of her loved ones having a good time made her determined to do the same, if only for a couple hours. Her problems would still be there tomorrow.

* * *

"Ah, I think in another life I would have liked to be a Companion," Ulfric sighed happily as he sat down on the edge of the bed to pull his boots off. The warrior band certainly knew how to enjoy themselves, all of them easy with one another in a way only a close family could be. He was a bit envious of that, though he considered most of the folk who resided in the Palace of the Kings family in one way or another. He was Jarl there however, and it could only be a certain way. He wasn't in any particular hurry to get back to his responsibilities in Windhelm, that was for certain.

"Yes, me too," Bryn replied, leaning up to hang Auriel's Bow on the weapons plaque over the bed.

Ulfric looked at her sideways and murmured, "You're forgetting something, precious."

"Hm, yes, I suppose I am."

"They still consider you one of them, even if you don't."

"I'm glad of that." She pulled off her silk gown and threw it onto the chair, and when she moved away Ulfric caught her around the waist and pulled her into his lap. She sighed and placed her hand on his scarred cheek, murmuring, "I think I just want to go to sleep, darling, all right?"

"No, that is not all right," he replied warmly, pulling aside the collar of her cotton undershift to nuzzle where her neck joined her shoulder. She hadn't wanted to make love last night either, and he understood why, but he wanted her now and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. He had watched her all evening trying to have a good time, or pretending to. Maybe she even had enjoyed herself a bit, but in spite of the short time they had been together he _knew_ her, and she was still obsessing over things. She was becoming quite a good actress, he had to admit, but she wasn't fooling him at all. Her attention hadn't completely focused on him since reading the Elder Scrolls, and he'd had enough of it, and there was one surefire way to get her full and complete attention.

Bryn admitted, "I'm…just not really in the mood."

"I can get you in the mood easily enough." She sighed and shook her head, letting her hand fall, and he softly said in her ear, "Not even if I let you have your way with me?"

Her eyes widened slightly and she pulled back to look him in the eye. He was serious about it, no wariness in his expression. He hadn't let her be on top since the night he had asked her to marry him, and she never tried very hard to get him to do it, afraid to push him in that regard. He wouldn't even let her finish when she was pleasuring him orally, when it was her time of the month. She sighed again and sadly said, "I appreciate that, beloved. I really do. But I…well, I don't want to unless I can finish what I start."

"Yes, I was planning to let you."

Bryn frowned at him and he looked back with slightly dilated eyes, his cheeks flushed. "You're drunk, Ulfric," she softly stated. According to Galmar and Jorleif, Ulfric wasn't a drinker, but she had seen him mildly drunk three times now. And it had been Farkas to blame each and every time. Well, she wasn't about to take advantage of his inebriation, silly as that sounded.

"Only a little, and maybe I did it with a purpose." Her breath caught, bewildered, and he petted her loose hair back and said, "You have been my healer. Since we've been together I've felt many of the scars inside fading, but this one…this one has been hard for me, but I want to try. Don't deny me when I'm ready to try."

"Oh Ulfric," she whispered. "Of course I wouldn't." Not when he put it that way. He had controlled the end result of each and every time they were together, and the idea of finally being able to take him through from start to finish was irresistible.

"You are an Agent of Dibella, Brynhilde. You seem to do your best to forget that." She blinked in surprise, confirming his statement. She spoke much of Mara, the goddess of compassion and marriage, but little of Dibella, the goddess of love. Too many saw only the carnal aspects of Dibella, like the brash woman who ran the bunkhouse, when the goddess actually ruled over all forms of love, including the sacred love between spouses. She was not a truly Nord goddess, but she had her place.

"But…I don't think it works that way. When Hamal, the Mother Priestess, told me to receive the Blessing of Dibella, she only said it would help me _against_ men. Not _with_ men."

"The two are the same, if you let them be."

Bryn nodded and gave up arguing, afraid to lose the opportunity. She really wasn't in the mood at all, and the thought that her poor husband had felt compelled to drink to deal with this was upsetting, but he was trying, and frankly as a woman she didn't need to be in the mood to do this. She reached up to run one of his braids through her fingers and gently asked, "How would you like me to do this, darling?" He looked uncertain at that, hesitating before shaking his head. She thought about it a moment, cursing her selfishness again for not discussing this with the head priestess in Markarth when she had the chance instead of the other problem, which really hadn't been much of one at all. She would have to try to figure this out on her own, and when she was done with Harkon she would head down to Markarth for a visit and talk to Hamal, knowing the priestess would keep whatever she said in complete confidence.

She kissed his cheek and leaned her head against his as she said in a soft voice, "Then we'll do the opposite, as much as we can, of whatever it was."

"Opposite," Ulfric murmured in confusion.

"Of how it was done. To you."

He said in reluctant understanding, "Yes, maybe that would be best."

Bryn leaned close and kissed along his neck, and he sighed and put his arms around her waist, his hands traveling over her. She slid her hand inside the neck of his tunic to caress his chest hair, something he had much more of than Vilkas. As he had known she would, she could feel herself warming as they continued, his demeanor so vulnerable that it was almost virginal. It was touching and saddening and exciting all at once. They ended up with Ulfric sitting up at the head of the bed instead of lying prone, and she kept on her cotton shift while he completely undressed. She moved slowly and gently, kissing him often, looking him in the eye, stroking his hair, and when he grabbed her hips to move her more quickly she gladly went along with it, and she felt a giddy thrill when she felt him hardening further inside her, but when he began to climax she saw a look of panic cross his face as sweat beaded instantly on his forehead.

He grabbed for her hand and held it tightly and shuddered beneath her, and Bryn squeezed his hand and leaned close to kiss his forehead. He shivered and buried his face in her chest, taking deep breaths. "It's all right, beloved," she whispered. "Everything's all right." He didn't respond, and she moved to get off him but he held her there. "Oh Ulfric. I love you so much." He only nodded, wrapping his arms around her, still trembling. She petted his hair and laid her head on top of his, saddened but glad that he had tried, and had been able to finish. She was certainly never going to even attempt being on top ever again unless he was the one to instigate it. Not if it did this to him. For a split second he had looked absolutely terrified. It made her want to go to the Imperial City and pick Elenwen's frozen head out of that crate and stomp it into the dirt. She would kill Elenwen a thousand different ways if she could.

When he sniffed and turned his head sideways, the air hit her skin and she felt wetness on her chest, and she stifled the urge to cry for him, knowing he wouldn't appreciate it. She shifted and he finally let her go, and she slid off him and pulled the covers back to let him get under. She wiped him off with the hem of her shift, not about to wear it again any time soon, then she blew out the candles in the bedroom and slid into bed next to him, where he pulled her close and slid down to lay his head on her chest again. Bryn rubbed his back as she held him, feeling him shiver and sniff occasionally, but she said nothing. There was really nothing she could say. She had never heard or seen him cry before. She suddenly remembered something Galmar had told her early on, during that first month she had spent in Windhelm, when she was still getting to know Ulfric and wondering if his ambitions had been tempered suitably: _Some say Ulfric desires to be King and nothing more. Have they not seen that his anger floats on a sea of tears?_

She distantly heard Ralof and Iona quietly come in some time later; Hadvar had no doubt found Aerin a willing companion for the night. She moved and Ulfric rolled over, never waking. She glanced up enough to see Iona's red head going down the stairs as Ralof unrolled his bedroll in front of the fire then locked the door. She caught his eye as he straightened up to remove his armor, and she smiled sleepily at him as he nodded in greeting.

Ralof came over, asking in a whisper, "Do you need anything before I…" His eyes fell on Ulfric's back, and he took in a sharp breath, his expression tightening. He pulled his eyes away but they traveled back again, horrified. So many scars. He had never seen so many on one body. There was barely one square inch of skin on his back that hadn't been lashed.

"_That_ is half the reason we go to war," she murmured.

"Hell yes!" he whispered fiercely. He'd had no idea it was that bad. Ulfric was extremely protective of his modesty, and everyone knew why, but Ralof had never guessed it was that bad. The Jarl and the Queen must have made love earlier if Ulfric had fallen asleep without a shirt on, but Ralof had been standing guard right outside the door the entire time and hadn't heard a thing.

"Don't let on you ever saw it. Not a hint, not even to Galmar. But remember it."

Ralof nodded curtly, his jaw clenched, then he muttered, "On my life, my lady."

"Good night, Ralof."

"Good night, my Queen." She pulled the covers up over Ulfric then put her arm over him protectively, and Ralof had to turn away before he exploded in anger or tears, or grabbed his lady's hand and kissed it a thousand times for taking care of his liege lord. It was no wonder why she was so deeply protective of Ulfric. It was one thing to know something had been done to a person, but to constantly see the visual evidence of it was terrible. After seeing this, sleep was a long time coming, and when it did it was an uneasy one.


	50. Chapter 50

**A/N: Guest, thank you so much for your review on the last chapter! I'm really glad you enjoyed it. Hopefully you will find a teeny bit of resolution here. I know it seems things are dragging on a bit in the relationship department. I started this story last summer (2012, that is) with the notion of crafting a sweet little romance between Vilkas and Bryn just for my own kicks, and I quickly got bored with the idea and decided to make this a story one about personal development, about how time and events change people (not always for the better), and how a Dragonborn gaining power over time shapes who and what they are (not always for the better). I took a very long view with it, so it may take some fortitude for readers to stick with it; I'm currently writing at a point in time a little over a year out from this chapter. **

**I know what you mean about following stories that seem to just peter out and never finish; I'm following a large number that seem to have withered and died on the vine. I have every intention of finishing this story line up even though it has grown way past the point I originally intended. I'm also working on an entirely different one that is fighting for my attention, so that's been difficult, but this one will get finished, I do promise.**

**Thank you so much to everyone for reading!**

* * *

A feeling of deep dread filled the pit of Vilkas' stomach as he approached the birch copse to the east of town where Lydia had told him to meet Bryn. He had expected that she wanted to hash things out further, maybe say goodbye in private, but Ulfric was standing there, watching her warily as she stood on a low stone outcropping with her back to them, looking down the slope through the woods. Hadvar was on guard further to the east while Ralof watched the road to the north, eyeing the Khajiit caravan camped nearby with suspicion while the cat folk stared back unflinchingly. They knew Bryn was fond of them and wouldn't tolerate any harassment, especially when she was so close by.

He stopped about ten feet away from Ulfric, seeing the older man was no happier about this than Vilkas was. They were all armed and armored, their respective groups getting ready to leave this morning. Ulfric was wearing ebony armor in the latest Nordic style, chased with silver, while Vilkas' was more Cyrodiilic in fashion, practically an antique, with gold chasing instead, but he thought it more beautiful than the Nordic-style ebony. It certainly garnered more than its share of attention. Ulfric looked at him in warning as Bryn took a deep breath and turned around, her hair braided up and back, bound by the dragonbone circlet, looking queenly and not at all happy. He had seen her leave town with Ulfric yesterday, their eyes only for each other as they held hands and walked out the south gate, probably to take a stroll along the lake, maybe even to have a picnic as she and Vilkas had done so long ago, after Farkas and Lydia's wedding. They had smiled sweetly at each other and Ulfric had kissed her cheek with such obvious tenderness and adoration that it had made something twist in Vilkas' gut to contemplate Bryn losing him. Well, there was no tenderness or adoration in his gaze now; Ulfric eyed his wife like an opponent. Like something dangerous. It made Vilkas wonder if maybe he should do the same.

"So," Bryn said quietly as she stepped off the outcropping, knowing that if she stayed up there it would look like she was lording it over them. Literally looking down her nose at them. She looked between the two men then snorted and added, "Aren't you two a sight." The two of them were stunning in their differing ebony plate. It didn't matter that Vilkas was the prettier of the two.

"What are you up to, Brynhilde?" Ulfric asked in a tone of misgiving. He didn't like this one bit. His wife had been nothing but sweetness and sunshine since the other night, treating him like something priceless to her, but now that they were leaving the edge was back, though it was different. The fear seemed to be gone, for now, but instead she seemed irritated. Or perhaps it was the anticipation that she was going to get irritated. When she had told him that she wanted to speak privately to him and Vilkas before they left he had felt a surprising amount of anxiety, and now he just wanted to get it over with. Somehow she had gotten wind of something going on between him and Vilkas. He had expected Hadvar to mention it to her, the former Legionnaire completely her man, and rightly so, but he hadn't expected it to trigger any kind of confrontation.

"I have questions, for both of you." She looked at Vilkas and willed her pounding heart to slow down. He gazed back painfully, with those bright silver-gray eyes that practically sparked within the black warpaint. That look was still there, the need to tell her something, some knowledge that hadn't been there before. Well, she would get it out of him, here and now.

"Don't do this, precious," Ulfric warned quietly. "You may not like the answers."

"Oh my," she retorted in mock dismay, putting her hand over her mouth. "Well I'd better not then!" Ulfric slowly shook his head, looking at her with something like disgust. As if she was going to be cowed by that. She looked between the two of them, putting her hands on her hips, and flatly said to Vilkas, "You didn't get the letter, did you." Vilkas flinched in shock then he made a choking sound and shook his head. Aching with grief, Bryn turned her gaze on Ulfric, who looked slightly ill and more than a little angry. "Did you know he didn't get it? Did you know before we married? Is that what you two were talking about before the Moot?" Ulfric licked his lips, debating his answer, which was answer enough. The two men looked at each other, and Bryn was suddenly so enraged by their complicity that it felt like her blood was literally boiling in her veins.

Seeing Bryn's nostrils flare, Ulfric began in a dread-filled voice, "Brynhilde—"

"_TAHROVIN!"_ she roared, making both men cringe back as the sounds within the city went silent. _"Munax bein nok, tahrodiis ahmulle!"_ Ulfric's eyes widened at the plural term and he made a sound of hurt, but she was too furious to care. "Explain yourselves, _grohiiki ahrk kodaavi!_ Explain yourselves before I call _zeymahi Odahviing ahrk zu'u bo!"_

He yelled back, "I explain nothing while you're raging at us like a _fel rekdovah!"_

"You think this is rage? I am controlling myself, _ahmuli._ I am controlling myself quite stringently at the moment. I have the right to be angry!" While Ulfric seethed she turned on Vilkas and said, "You then, since my husband chooses defensiveness over honesty. I would know under what false pretenses I was wed!"

"I wanted to tell you!" Ulfric protested. He pointed at Vilkas and went on, "I asked him why he was angry, and he went on about how you didn't give him a chance, and I told him that you sent him a letter. He said he never got it, and I told him to tell you. I begged him to!" Bryn's fury calmed at that, replaced with pain as her gaze returned to Vilkas, who stared back sullenly with glistening eyes. "I am sorry I agreed to a lie. I told him you would resent me if you ever found out, and clearly I was right. He didn't want to tell you to spare you any further hurt. He didn't want you to be forced to choose between us."

"It was my choice to make!" she said with wounded anger. "You took that choice from me, both of you. I'm strong enough to be High Queen, but I can't be trusted to make up my own mind about who I want to be with? You two had no right. None!" Ulfric looked away, his jaw clenched, while Vilkas kept staring at her with a sorrowful expression. "Well? You haven't said a word. You always have _something_ to say."

Vilkas mumbled, "I have nothing to say in my defense." Seeing Bryn in a draconic rage had been more than a little frightening, even if he hadn't understood but a few words of the dragon tongue. He could hardly ask Ulfric what it all meant, but he supposed he didn't need to when she was obviously furious. No, the two men had had no right to take the choice from her, and it would have been her decision to live with after that, and instead she had married a man not knowing that she had ever had a choice. She had been forced to live with decisions others had made for her.

"I still want to hear it."

"I thought he would make you happier than I could," he stated in a miserable voice. "I thought…that maybe if you had the choice you would choose him anyway. Because you would never entirely trust me. Trust that I was marrying you freely, without resentment." He looked away and went on, "I thought a Jarl would be a better match for a Queen than me. I thought someone who was nearly a Greybeard would be better for the Dragonborn than me. He would understand you better than I could, and speak the dragon language with you, Shout like you." His eyes returned to her as he said in a pained tone, "You didn't come back. I thought that if you had still truly wanted me you would have come back to Whiterun. Even once I knew there was a letter, I had no idea what it said. He told me you sent a letter, but…" Bryn closed her eyes for a moment, looking anguished. "You were already with Ulfric. I thought him a more fitting match than me, and everything I saw at the Moot reinforced that. He could have been High King. If you were going to be Queen, why wouldn't you want a King at your side? Someone whose bloodline has ruled for a thousand years, not some…parentless, unpedigreed mercenary." He heard a sound of sorrow from Ulfric but kept his eyes on Bryn.

She opened her eyes and said, "Because I'm the High Queen and I need no one to rule with me. All I wanted was a husband to go home to."

"And you have one."

_But it wasn't the one I really wanted!_ she nearly cried. She would never hurt Ulfric by saying that. She still couldn't say who she would have chosen; given her state of mind at the time, she might have still chosen Ulfric. Or she might have chosen neither, giving herself time to think it out. She knew damn well though that in that case, if she had gotten anywhere near Vilkas again, the two of them would have been irresistibly drawn to each other. Maybe Ulfric had been good for her, but it was Vilkas that her mind and heart kept turning to, over and over again, even back home in Windhelm. She deeply loved her husband, but she hadn't loved him like this back when she would have been able to make a choice. If she had chosen Vilkas she would have thought of Ulfric occasionally with regret, and not much more than that, but thoughts of Vilkas had haunted her all along.

"Do you have one?" Ulfric asked unhappily. He couldn't tolerate watching the two of them stare at each other like that. As if he wasn't even there.

Bryn retorted, "What the hell kind of question is that!" Ulfric's expression was heartbreaking. And ridiculous. "Our marriage vows meant something to me. This changes nothing. All I wanted was the truth." She looked between them and prompted, "Do I have the entire truth?" Neither answered, but they didn't look at each other either. "What were you talking about outside the night of the wedding party? What more could the two of you possibly have to say to each other?" Vilkas nervously glanced at Ulfric, who refused to return the attention, staring at Bryn with a hurt expression. Bryn folded her arms, waiting. When neither man answered she said with fresh irritation, "Unless you two are having an affair with each other you had better come clean."

Vilkas made a scoffing sound, his eyes wide, and Ulfric glared at Bryn for a long moment, his tongue in his cheek. Well, if she wanted the full truth then she would have to live with it. "The night you read the Elder Scrolls, the vision you saw—" Bryn stiffened slightly, appalled that he was mentioning it, then her nostrils flared. Ulfric shook his head at her, saying, "No, I didn't tell him about it. He already knew. He saw it in his sleep. At the same time you did. He was there." She went ghostly white as she blinked rapidly. "I could tell something had changed. He went up and talked to you at the forge. He stared at you during the wedding, during the party afterward, and he kept looking at me with sadness in his eyes. I confronted him, wanting to know what it was. I badgered him into telling me. He told me exactly what you said, word for word. He described the room you were in."

"The room?" she whispered faintly. "What room?"

"Our room. In the Palace of Kings." Her eyelids fluttered as her eyes unfocused then she shook her head as if to clear it, looking one second away from passing out. He regretted the cruelty of telling her all this, but she had asked for it. Demanded it. "I wanted to make sure he would be there for you, when the time came. Care for you and the boy, if it's mine." She made a sound of grief and rubbed her eyes. "I warned him that you might become Empress someday. Nothing I said deterred him, and I was satisfied with that."

"Satisfied?" she exclaimed in a shaking voice. "How nice that you're satisfied!" Unable to tolerate any more of this, Bryn turned away, hissing, "I wish I had never met either of you!"

Ulfric watched her go with narrowed eyes, his lips pursed. He watched her head for the stables where the other Companions were getting ready to leave, but she bypassed them and went to the Khajiiti camp, where the cat folk greeted her happily. His nose wrinkled as she clasped hands with each in turn, accepting cheek rubs from them that made him grimace in distaste. He wondered if she were doing it just to aggravate him.

Vilkas mumbled, "I'm sure she doesn't mean it."

"At this very moment she does," Ulfric said in annoyance. "She-dragon that she is, she damn well does mean it." He folded his arms and watched his wife sit down cross-legged on a rug that was rolled out for her by a male Khajiit in steel plate. The entire group joined her in a circle and began passing around a common cup of hot tea to drink from, and when Bryn took a sip from it right after several cats had drunk from it he had to turn away, nearly gagging. He'd be damned if he kissed her again before the day was out. Vilkas frowned at him, and he said, "Consider yourself lucky in a way, Harbinger. You've been spared her nature, for the most part. As time goes on she only becomes more dragon-like, more strong-willed and domineering. It is simply what she is, and if she does end up ruling an Empire she will need it, but it makes marriage to her a challenge at times." Vilkas grunted. "I suppose my own disposition doesn't help matters, but damned if I will let her yell at me with that Voice of hers or I'd be deaf within the year." Vilkas didn't answer, staring past Ulfric to watch Bryn. "I think this is the angriest I have ever seen her, and I hope that is the angriest I ever will see her."

"What did she say?"

"She cursed our plotting against her and called us treacherous husbands." Vilkas finally met his eyes at that, stunned. Ulfric smirked and said, "Yes, rather naughty of her, wasn't it. _Ahmul,_ and the plural is _ahmulle._ She then called us her wolf and her bear, and threatened to call Odahviing and fly off."

"Does she do that often? Talk in the dragon tongue?" She had only started doing it the day she flew off to Skuldafn, as far as he knew.

"Only when she's feeling overly emotional. Angry, or…well." Vilkas grunted, looking unhappy. "If it makes any difference, I appreciate what you said. Your reasons for thinking I was better for her. Maybe for the short-term I am, but forever? No." He sighed with regret. "I'm too old for her. I've always known that I was, but in my selfishness I had to have her." Vilkas nodded in a distracted manner, still watching her no doubt. Ulfric wasn't about to look over there and see her doing gods knew what with the cat folk. Maybe licking each other or whatever the beasts did. "If she should happen to go to Whiterun, if you two wish to talk things out, know that I have no problem with it. I trust her fidelity and your sense of honor. I have the feeling that there is still a great deal that you two have left unsaid."

Vilkas frowned at him, and seeing that he was serious. "Why would you do that? Allow that?"

"Because I'm not going to be around forever. If I was, I would guard my treasure much more zealously, I assure you." The taller man shook his head, dismayed by his statement. "But I know she will be yours again someday, and there's the chance that the son you're holding is mine, and I would have good will between the three of us." He snorted a laugh. "Even if my darling is extremely angry with us both right now."

"I am angry with us both right now." He bowed slightly to Ulfric. "Until next time, my lord. Maybe we can stay out of trouble until then."

Ulfric laughed shortly. "Unlikely. Farewell, Harbinger."

Vilkas nodded and walked away, finding the conversation as odd and uncomfortable as every other he'd had with the Jarl of Eastmarch. The man certainly liked to talk, though maybe it was as Lydia had said and he was enamored of the sound of his own voice. Vilkas had to admit it was a beautiful one. No doubt it melted Bryn like hot butter to hear that voice whispering to her in the dragon tongue.

He grumbled to himself and walked to the front gates, where the other Companions were gearing up for the road. His brother and Lydia were watching him with concern, while the others all cast occasional wary glances at him; all of them had no doubt heard Bryn's angry shouting. Probably everyone for a mile around had. At least no one had understood it but Ulfric.

Farkas asked with worry, "How did it go?" As if he needed to ask.

"She didn't Shout us into a wall." Farkas only knew that Bryn was mad at both Vilkas and Ulfric about talking about her behind her back, but not the details. He hadn't thought to ask, and Vilkas wasn't about to volunteer. His twin didn't even know that there had been a letter, or the lack of one. Vilkas hated keeping anything from his brother, but things were complicated enough as it was without Farkas' disapproval added to it.

"That bad, huh?"

He sighed and accepted his pack from Farkas. "Things were…aired out. It could have been worse, I suppose. She didn't fly off on her dragon and leave us eating her dust as she threatened to." He glanced her way as he slung his pack over his shoulder, and she was watching a game of bone dice, her chin in her hand and elbow braced on her knee. As if she felt his attention her golden eyes slowly slid over to him, and it was all he could do not to walk over to her. He didn't completely trust the Khajiit but didn't have the visceral reaction to them Ulfric did. He'd sworn the man was about to vomit when Bryn had shared a drink with them. Vilkas didn't know how she could tolerate her husband's overt racism. When it seemed she wasn't about to look away Vilkas did so, sighing heavily. She was definitely angry. Ulfric and the two young men were going to have an uncomfortable ride home.

"Little bird will get over it," Farkas said confidently. "She always does."

"Sure." Vilkas looked over his people to make sure everyone was accounted for, and they were. Aela approached him, Skjorta sleeping in her sling, and he quietly asked, "Is everyone ready to go?"

"Looks that way," the Huntress replied. Farkas and Lydia moved away to get their gear, Lydia casting a knowing look at Aela, who nodded curtly. Vilkas eyed her with suspicion. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something. Couldn't find the right time."

Vilkas grumbled and said, "I think I can l die a happy man if I don't have any more secret discussions with anyone for a while."

"This isn't a secret. It's…hm. Well, it has to do with the Blood."

He saw her green eyes go past him, probably to Bryn, and when she nibbled at her lip he stated in confusion, "But I no longer have it."

"That is true, however you did for nearly fifteen years, and I still consider you and Farkas my brothers in the Blood. Pack." He nodded sadly, and it made her feel the loss all over again. The loneliness. "I… still can't consider you two anything else. When a pack is formed, bonds are formed. Even if the Blood is gone, the bonds are still there. They're a part of the soul, and that is not something that can simply be cleansed from you."

"I understand," he murmured.

"So you still feel it then."

"Aye," he said with faint regret. "That is the only part of it I miss, the feel of pack. But yes, I still feel it. You are my sister, still, Blood or not." She smiled briefly at him, seeming relieved.

"I'm glad of that, brother. I knew it was so, but it's good to hear." She looked down at her sleeping daughter and went on in a sad murmur, "I wish I had given Skjor more, while he was alive. All those years he waited…"

Vilkas made a sound of pain at the unexpected confession and whispered, "He knew you loved him, Aela. Surely he knew it." It was rather shocking that Aela was even bringing this up, but it wasn't a bad thing. Maybe being a mother and married was finally starting to soften her up a bit.

"Yes, but I should have said it. I should have told him I felt what he did, something I tried so hard not to. I only wanted a daughter, not a…a mating." Vilkas sighed and put his hands on her shoulders, and it was comforting. Yes, he was still her brother, even if he no longer smelled like it. "My parents…they were werewolves from the time they were young. They each came from a long bloodline, Ma's from the Circle. Well, you already knew that. They knew more about our lore and our biology than anyone I've ever met. Ma didn't get the chance to pass on everything she could have, but Da knew it and made sure I did as well." Vilkas nodded for her to go on, sensing she was trying to say something. Yes she was, and she wasn't sure how he was going to take it. "Even after Skjor and I had been together a while, I kept telling myself it was only until I got a daughter out of it. I don't like men. I have never liked men."

"Everyone knows that," he assured her.

"I love Mjoll," Aela stated uncomfortably. "But…with Skjor…it was a _mating_. It was…true. Like my parents, what they had. After Ma died, Da never took another woman. They were husband and wife in the old Nord way, but more than that they were mates. For life. Once they set their hearts on each other there was no one else for them, just as it was when I opened my heart to Skjor. With the Blood, when a werewolf picks a mate, and that mate reciprocates…that's it. Their nature simply doesn't allow them to want any other." Vilkas' hands slowly dropped away, a stricken look on his face. So he was getting it. "Lydia told me that Farkas said that once he set his heart on her all other women ceased to exist for him. Just as it was for me and Skjor." Aela hadn't been entirely pleased to find out yesterday that Lydia knew the Circle's secret, but the explanation for that knowledge had sufficed, and this was something Vilkas needed to know.

"I…see."

Aela looked at him with sympathy, seeing his adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed several times. "I'm sorry. This probably isn't what you wanted to hear, especially after she blasted you like that. To be honest this was something I just didn't think to discuss with you, or Farkas. I didn't have to with him. He chose his mate and intended to marry her from the start. And you…I really believed you would marry Bryn, if she asked, at least in the old way. And when she did and you said no, I was so angry I figured that maybe it really didn't…take, for you. The bond. When you were all broken up afterwards I figured it would pass. And by time I realized it wasn't going to, it was too late, and she was engaged to Ulfric." She shook her head and added with sorrow, "I really thought she would come back, eventually, after Sovngarde. So did Lydia. We didn't talk about it until yesterday, but…we always thought you two would get back together. We were just as shocked to hear she was marrying Ulfric as anyone."

"She married him because I'm an idiot," Vilkas hissed.

"No, she married him because you didn't get a letter."

"Lydia wasn't supposed to tell anyone!"

"She didn't. Bryn asked Mjoll the night we got married if you ever talked about her, after Mjoll came to Whiterun. Mjoll told her about a conversation you had, and Bryn asked if you ever mentioned a letter, and, well, you know how Mjoll is. Brutally honest. Bryn suspected you didn't get the letter. Divines know how that's possible."

"Whatever," Vilkas said through gritted teeth. "Bryn married Ulfric because I was too stupid to marry her when she asked, and too stupid to marry her when I first wanted to, after Kodlak died, and too stupid to tell her the truth at the Moot." He resisted the urge to rub his face; this warpaint wasn't as forgiving of that as the old one had been. He nodded and said, "All right, fine. I… know you meant well, telling me. It changes nothing, but…I suppose things make more sense now." He had to wonder if subconsciously he had been fighting against a permanent mating along with the rest of his nature, and just as fruitlessly. Once he had been cleansed he had wanted to marry Bryn, and then like an idiot had talked himself out of it.

"I'm glad. I didn't want to upset you, but I thought it only fair that you knew. I wish I had told you when I first realized you were serious about her, but frankly we both know it might have pushed you the wrong direction."

"No, I did that to myself quite handily."

"All right then. I just wanted to get this out of the way now, before we left. Lydia said she mentioned the thing with Farkas to Bryn and, well, she's a bright girl." And Lydia had no doubt talked to Bryn at some point last night about it all.

Vilkas nodded curtly, his tongue in his cheek. Aela sighed and turned away, leaving it at that. He folded his arms, trying to keep his expression calm and probably failing miserably, as he always did. The others gave him space and he was glad of it. So he felt like this because of the beastblood. In hindsight he could see it quite clearly…how after the first time sleeping with Bryn and having her respond to him the way she did all he wanted to do was smell her, touch her, as if she was imprinting herself on him, and then that morning before getting home, how he had felt that deep, aching warmth upon waking next to her. He'd loved her so intensely afterwards that he couldn't bear being parted from her for any length of time, and when she had nearly died that one night he had been absolutely terrified of losing her. He wanted to believe that if he had known what it meant at the time that he would have given in and married her, at least in the old way, but stubborn jackass that he was, he might have dug in even further, refusing to let the beastblood get the better of him in any way. Well, it seemed it had, permanently, and he tried to tell himself that it didn't change anything; he wanted Bryn again either way. At least now he knew why he couldn't even begin to take an interest in any other woman. Unfortunately it hadn't worked quite that way for Bryn. Her dragon blood had kept the wolf from reaching any part of her soul.

He turned slightly to glance at her and she was watching him again, her expression no longer coldly angry, though it was being so stringently controlled that it was impossible to tell what she was feeling. She undoubtedly knew what Aela had just told him. He again fought the urge to go to her, to talk to her. He had to trust that Ulfric had meant what he said and wouldn't fuss over them talking to each other when she visited Whiterun, which she no doubt would at some point to see Balgruuf again, or Farkas and Lydia. He wasn't even sure at this point what there was to say to each other, or how to say it without Bryn getting angry, or the two of them being tempted to intimacy. Anything they had to say to each other couldn't be said in front of others, and saying it to each other alone would create the kind of situation that couldn't possibly end well. Not as long as she was another man's wife.

Her eyes dropped away first as a Khajiit woman handed her the cup of tea again, and when she drank from it he turned away, trying desperately to leave the situation alone. He watched Mjoll shoulder both her gear and Aela's, and the two women smiled warmly at each other, newlywed and in love, saw Farkas pick up Lydia's gear to carry for her as she smiled sweetly at him, and it made him sigh unhappily, feeling lonely. He told himself that at least he wasn't missing a dead mate the way Aela was. The way Bryn one day would, though it wasn't the same for her. It wasn't as if a non-werewolf couldn't have the same depth of feeling, though.

Vilkas looked for Ulfric and distantly saw him standing in the same spot, Hadvar now with him, and the Jarl was watching his wife with a look of such open distaste that it made Vilkas guiltily hope that Bryn stayed there until the sun went down to force Ulfric to go to her. Vilkas preferred the company of other humans, other Nords in particular, but it wasn't as if he hated the other races by any means, and he trusted his Shield-Brother Athis with his life. He didn't know how Bryn tolerated Ulfric's demeanor, or how the two of them managed not to fight constantly. Ulfric had made that jab the other day about the wolf and dragon fighting for dominance, but wolves knew when to cut their losses and turn tail. Vilkas had never seen a bear back down from anything. Bryn had told him once that she and Lydia had come across bears in the wild fighting dragons, even with the odds completely against them. The bears had gotten their damage in, but in the end the result was always the same: the dragon always won.

* * *

As Bryn retreated upstairs with Rikke, the two women arm in arm, Ulfric sighed heavily, and Galmar closed to door to the main hall and asked, "Have a little spat on your vacation?" As if he couldn't tell. The tension between the Queen and the Jarl was blatantly obvious. Ralof and Hadvar had taken off for their rooms as soon as humanly possible, as if wanting to escape the couple's presence. Bryn had curtly greeted Galmar then had grabbed Rikke and left without a single backward glance at her husband.

"Yes. She's hardly said a word to me in days. Or looked at me." Ulfric threw himself into a chair in the war room, which had been converted into a sitting room slash office at some point in the last week, probably Rikke's doing, at Bryn's direction. Ulfric had to admit it was a nice touch. It was good to have somewhere to sit and talk quietly, away from the throne room which magnified every word no matter how quietly spoken. The strategy map of Skyrim was now mounted on the end wall, above a desk stacked with letters and papers, and a low table and a number of comfortable chairs were arranged centrally on a large Eastmarch blue rug, for easy conversation. Not that this was going to be an easy conversation.

"So what did you do this time?"

Ulfric snorted and rubbed his forehead, muttering, "I may have made a serious miscalculation, Galmar."

"That isn't like you."

"With her it seems to happen much too often."

Galmar sat down in the chair across from him, saying in a reassuring tone, "Come on now, these things happen to everyone. You haven't been married long, and most of that time she's been off traveling." And it went without saying that Ulfric's experience with women and relationships was seriously lacking. He leaned back in the chair and asked, "Did you get along in Riften?"

"Yes, yes, fine. It was good, for most of the time. It was relaxing, and occasionally…fun."

"Fun," Galmar grunted. That was a word that he didn't think existed in his Jarl's vocabulary. In fact he had never once in their long acquaintance heard Ulfric use that word.

"A local fisherman, a prominent business owner, took me fishing on the lake, with Ralof." He sighed at the memory, feeling a bit of his stress easing. "Floating in the sun, hearing the water lap against the side of the boat…it nearly rocked me to sleep like a baby. I've never been so relaxed. I know now what my mother loved so much about it. I think I'd like to try it again one day." Galmar nodded. "Farkas and his wife came to dinner that night, and afterward the girls went outside to talk while we four men stayed inside and drank and joked and told stories. It reminded me of the early days in the Legion. Bryn's friend Farkas is good company. I enjoyed spending time with him a great deal. With all the Companions."

"Did having Vilkas around cause any problems?"

"Yes, it did. Very serious ones." Galmar grunted, his eyes narrowing. Ulfric knew quite well what Galmar thought of Bryn's lingering feelings for Vilkas, the extent of which Galmar wasn't entirely aware. Galmar had sown his wild oats far and wide in his youth, but like most Nords when he had married he had fully committed to his marriage and never looked outside it, rarely thought outside it. "It wasn't entirely Vilkas' fault. It wasn't even mostly his fault. When it comes down to it…it's mine. My fault for being greedy, and a liar."

Galmar exclaimed, "Liar! That's bullshit. You've never told a lie in your life!"

"I lied by omission. To Brynhilde. I wanted to keep her so badly that I committed an unforgivable error in judgment. I don't know if she ever will forgive me for it, or Vilkas." Who was he kidding; she would forgive Vilkas. She probably already had. His friend waited, looking worried and bewildered. No, Ulfric wasn't a liar. Imperials were masters of bending the truth, but Nords took oaths and honor seriously, as did the Redguards. Being called a liar was one of the worst insults you could heap upon a member of either race. "At the Moot…I told you that I had a talk with Vilkas. To clear the air."

"Yes?"

"I agreed to something. Something I never should have agreed to." He stood, restless. "I found out that he had never received the letter Brynhilde sent him from Riften. He'd had no idea she still wanted to marry him, or still loved him. He didn't want to hurt her. He insisted that I keep the knowledge to myself and not tell her. I hated the idea of it. I wanted to tell her." He leaned against the stone wall near the windows, seeing only vague shapes through the thick frosted glass. "He talked me out of it, told me to go ahead and marry her, but I could tell the idea was killing him. I could tell and I did it anyway. I knew she still loved him and did it anyway. I wanted her for myself. I wanted her as my wife, and I wanted her because she would become High Queen. He said I would be better for her, and perhaps I have been in many ways, but she still loves him. Even when she's here I see her lost in thought at times, looking sad, but she always turns to me with a smile." He huffed unhappily and added in a mutter, "And now she won't even look at me. Somehow she figured things out on her own enough to confront us, the day we were leaving, and when she got the truth she nearly roared down Riften's walls. She was so completely enraged that she called us traitors and threatened to summon her dragon and fly away." And then had gone and consorted with cat folk, right in front of him. His fears of having to kiss her after that were certainly unfounded, as angry as she had been. Her anger had turned cold after that. He could handle her rage, but not that. When her anger was hot it stoked his own, but this coldness of hers sucked the life right out of him and left him defenseless. He glanced at Galmar and his friend was looking at him as if he didn't know him, clearly disapproving. As well he should.

Galmar opened his mouth to say something then shut it, shaking his head in disbelief. If he had known any of this he would have talked Ulfric out of it from the start. He would have seen that it was a disaster in the making and put a stop to it, or tried to. A man in love wasn't a reasonable creature, any more than a woman in love was. And Bryn did love Ulfric. Anyone could see that. She was fiercely protective of him as well. That she was so furious with Ulfric that she hadn't talked to or looked at him in days was frightening. The marriage couldn't be dissolved, but it could be damaged to the point that it might as well not exist. Like Balgruuf's. The Jarl of Whiterun and his lawful wife had been separated for so long that most folk forgot he was still technically a married man.

"What do I do, Galmar?" Ulfric asked in a pained voice. "I brought this on myself, and by default Brynhilde. You can't imagine the look she gave us. Me. The utter betrayal."

"You started your marriage with a lie," Galmar growled. "No shit she feels betrayed. I'd want to wring your god damned neck. In fact I do." Ulfric nodded, accepting Galmar's stern disapproval freely. "Leave her alone for a few hours. Let her talk to Rikke and have some woman time, then you make up with her. Don't you dare go to bed with things like this."

"No, I do know better than that." His friend shook his head, disappointed in him, and Ulfric folded his arms and leaned his temple against the cold glass. "I've made terrible mistakes in my life, Galmar. Mistakes that have cost countless lives, that have caused suffering. But this…this feels the worst. If you had only seen how the two of them looked at each other. No matter how she loves me, she's never looked at me like that."

"So what? She looks at you in ways she would never look at him. I'm sure he saw that just as much as you saw them looking at each other." He got up and went to Ulfric. He put his hand on his Jarl's shoulder and sighed, "Look, you fucked up. So did Vilkas. And maybe so did she, by leaving to a letter something best done in person. None of this would have happened if she had gone back to Whiterun. None of this would have happened if he had married her in the first place. But she's married to you now. I don't care if she still loves another man, you are her husband. You will be for the rest of your lives."

"Or mine." That was one thing he wouldn't tell Galmar about. He would never tell his best friend about that. Galmar would live under a black cloud of dread worse than Bryn would. Too many people already knew as it was.

"We all know how old you are. I'm older. Stop feeling sorry for yourself."

Ulfric snorted a laugh. "Yes, but your woman is the same age as you." He lifted an eyebrow and asked, "How is that going, by the way? Is she all settled in?"

"Yes."

The short answer and faint blush on Galmar's cheeks made Ulfric laugh more loudly. Galmar had kept his relationship with Rikke unusually private. It had been fairly obvious when Ulfric had returned with Bryn from reading the Elder Scrolls that the couple had consummated their relationship, and it had been pleasant to watch his old friends fall in love, a mature, quiet love that made his own marriage feel somewhat teenagerish, and he had been happy for them both when Rikke had moved her belongings into Galmar's room, a move that signified some sort of commitment. Ulfric hadn't given Galmar a hard time, knowing the process had been hard for him no matter how he wanted Rikke. "So. Do you think you two will make it official in some way?" he asked.

"Neither of us sees any reason to at our age."

"Someone should make an honest woman out of her."

Galmar barked out a laugh. "I'm not sure marrying her would accomplish that." The two men laughed again. He slapped Ulfric on the shoulder and said, "Don't fuss about Brynhilde. She'll get over it. Give her space and let her bitch to Rikke about you for a few hours, then go tell her you're sorry and make up with her. She can't stay mad at you much longer."

"It worries me that she has stayed mad this long." This kind of anger was new for her, and no, she shouldn't have been able to stay this angry for days on end. No one should be capable of that, but then she wasn't entirely human.

"You were on the road with the lads."

Ulfric nodded. "That is true." There had been no privacy to talk about it or work things out, and so the tension had kept building. Poor Hadvar and Ralof had obviously felt caught in the middle, watching the two of them as if any moment they would start bickering, or Bryn start roaring again. The two young men had the rest of the day off to recuperate from it, and would spend tomorrow in Windhelm before they accompanied the Queen to Icewater Jetty to meet up with Isran and the Dawnguard to assault Castle Volkihar. He couldn't allow his wife to leave here still angry with him. It wasn't good for their marriage, and it wasn't good for her to be in a poor state of mind on a dangerous mission, one he hoped would be the last for some time.

* * *

Rikke opened the door at the quiet knock, and when she saw it was Ulfric she shook her head and came out into the hall, closing the door behind her. "By the Nine, Ulfric," she whispered in angry dismay. "What were you thinking? You lied to her!"

"I already had this discussion with Galmar two hours ago," he muttered.

"Well I hope he gave you hell for it."

"Yes, he was quite disgusted with me."

"Good." She motioned with her head toward the door. "She's getting in the bath. She's not as angry as she was when she first got home, but I've never seen her like this before." Probably because she had never felt so completely betrayed by anyone before, except maybe Vilkas when he had rejected her proposal. Rikke now knew much more than she ever wanted to about the entire business. It was a very good thing for Ulfric that the Queen took her marriage vows seriously. Bryn was in a mood right now that Rikke found deeply unsettling, and she had tread very carefully, watched her words very carefully, never more aware of the dragon blood in her Queen's veins. Ulfric looked worried, but not worried enough. She moved closer to him and quietly said, "Look…I don't want problems between you two. Just be _careful._ I can't stress that enough. Galmar probably slapped you on the back and said it would all work out, but he didn't see what kind of mood she was in. You can't imagine the kind of angry she is right now. She said things to me that…I really would rather she didn't say to you."

"Why, am I so fragile that I can't bear to hear it?" he said in offense. "What did she say, that she would leave me if she could? That is the worst possible thing I can imagine, and I could see her thinking it the entire way home. She told me and Vilkas that she wished she had never met either of us then she stalked off and cozied up to the Khajiit, then sat there drinking tea with cat spit in it while she watched Vilkas. She's no doubt already forgiven him while I'm still paying!"

Rikke shook her head at him, warning, "You're getting angry, Ulfric. I'm begging you, don't get angry with her. Please." He took in a deep breath, trying, but Rikke felt nearly nauseous with dread over the situation, and not just for personal reasons of not wanting two people she cared for to end up estranged. Bryn was High Queen and hadn't established a true court yet, hadn't had the chance to really do her job yet. If her marriage to Ulfric faltered this early on the people of Skyrim would lose faith in her and her ability to make decisions. She had made the choice to marry Ulfric based on faulty information, but it had been a choice nonetheless. "She didn't go sit with the Khajiit to spite you. She just wanted to sit with a neutral party that had nothing to do with you or Vilkas. The Khajiit like her, and she likes them."

"She knows how I feel about them!"

"And you know how she feels about them. And the Argonians. And the Dunmer, and the Orsimer, and so on and so on. You can feel however you like, but I hope to hell you don't expect her to treat the other races differently when you're around. She's everyone's Queen. Everyone loves her, and she loves them back. It's how she's earned such loyalty."

"I know that," he muttered. Of course he didn't expect his intolerance to rub off on Bryn, and of course her myriad connections across Skryim with all the races were only for the good. Any of the folk she had helped over the last year and a half would rush to her aid if she called. Even that hag Maven.

"She's already compromised her values by keeping the situation here in the Palace as it is, for your sake."

"I know that also." He took in another deep breath and let it out slowly. Bryn's feelings on the subject were well-known to him and had been since that ill-fated dinner when he received the dossier. As his wife she was not just the High Queen but the Lady of Eastmarch, and by rights she should be able to bring in her own staff and servants, and the only locally available ones were Dunmer, which Bryn would have absolutely no problem with. Well, when he was dead she could do that, and not a day before. He knew his prejudices were wrong, but at this point in his life and knowing what his fate would be he felt he shouldn't have to change. Maybe that made him an ass, but he honestly didn't care.

Rikke squeezed his upper arm then left, a look of anxiety on her face, and Ulfric squared his shoulders and went into his quarters, more than a little anxious himself. He closed and locked the door then put his back to it, seeing his wife stepping into the small wooden tub that the servants brought upstairs and filled every few days for full bathing. He felt a pang of mixed grief and longing as he watched the muscles ripple beneath her fair skin. He knew she was aware of him but she ignored him, slipping under the surface of the water to wet her hair. When she came up her golden eyes slowly opened and stared coldly at him, and for a split second he swore he saw the faintest outline of a golden dragon's head around hers. It sent a shiver of fear through him that he couldn't suppress. Thongvor Silver-Blood had told him in a hushed whisper at the Moot that he had seen the same thing, gone so quickly he would have questioned his sanity if he hadn't heard stories of the same about Tiber Septim. Except Tiber Septim hadn't carried around dozens of dragon souls inside him in addition to his own. Ulfric silently begged the forgiveness of Talos, knowing with a sudden certainty that his wife was a much more terrifying and deadly thing than the god had ever been as a living man.

"_Zofaas, ahmuli?"_

"Yes." He wasn't about to lie about it. She grumbled and began to wash her hair, her eyes closing. "I'm sorry, Brynhilde. I never wanted to start our marriage under false pretenses. I hate myself for it. I don't know what to do to fix it, or if I can, but know that I am sorry." She dipped under the water to rinse out the soap, not answering, and when she came back up and sat there, waiting, he asked in a barely steady voice, "What do you want me to do?"

"I've spent the last three days pondering that very question."

The cold, detached sound of her voice sent a thrill of fear through him that made his breath catch. He forced himself away from the door and took halting steps towards her. He stopped at the end of the tub, and when she raised her eyes to his he slowly lowered himself to his knees and whispered, "Don't leave me, Brynhilde." He had to cling to her statement that her marriage vows meant something to her, and so didn't want to end it.

"I have no intention of doing that. I never did. I made the mistake of leaving someone once and I've regretted it ever since." The look of naked anguish and hurt that crossed her husband's face was almost enough to make her regret her words. As she stood to wash she saw his eyes travel over her then he squeezed them shut tightly for a moment then looked away.

"Do you…" He swallowed and went on in a trembling voice, "If you wanted…to see him at times…I would look the other way." Bryn made a scoffing, disbelieving sound that sent a shudder of relief through him.

"So I should compound everyone's mistakes with infidelity? Are you out of your god damned mind?" Ulfric closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, seeming to go limp with relief. She nearly snarled at him that it offended her that he thought there was any chance whatsoever of her taking him upon that offer, and only the knowledge that he had made it in an attempt to please her kept her temper in check. As she washed in brusque motions she said in a tight voice, "I may not have been raised Nord, with Nord values, but I spent enough time talking to the priests of Mara to understand what a Nord marriage means. What any marriage should mean. I can't believe…ugh." She sat down hard in the water, back at his eye level, and when his gaze met hers she shook her head and said in a near hiss, "You think I would do that."

"You called him _ahmul."_ Bryn frowned slightly, as if she didn't remember doing so. "You called us _ahmulle. Tahrodiis ahmulle."_

"_Tahrodiis, geh. Ahmulle, nid."_ She stood up in the tub and began pushing the water off her skin, and as he climbed to his feet she heard his knees creak and snap. He picked up a drying cloth of tundra cotton and handed it to her, avoiding her eyes, then he turned away to pull off his gauntlets and begin unfastening his armor. She stepped out and finished drying, watching Ulfric remove his ebony armor piece by piece. His movements were slow and precise, as if he were taking his time in order to avoid having to look at her as long as possible. The first twinges of regret started nagging at her, knowing how deeply she had wounded him. Well, he had asked for it by lying to her then daring to get defensive about it when she found out and became angry. She moved in front of the small fire and continued watching him as she combed out her hair, and when he briefly glanced back at her she insisted, "You really think I would have an affair, with your permission or not."

"Would it be an affair?" he countered quietly. She made a growling sound of frustration that told him he was making her angry again. "He will be your husband someday—"

"But he isn't now!"

"I watched him watching you. It's as if it never ended for him."

"Because it didn't. It can't." He turned to look at her again, down to the black doublet and pants that went under his armor. She knelt down in front of the fire to dry her hair and went on, "I'm going to tell you something I never wanted to tell you, that I probably don't have any right to tell you, but I'm in a pissy mood so I'm going to do it anyway. What I'm going to tell you can't leave this room, and you're going to swear to me that we will never talk about it again, and you will never breathe a word of it to anyone, _anyone_, I don't care who they are."

"Yes. I swear it."

"I mean it, Ulfric. This is something that could get people I love killed."

He resisted the urge to get irritated, knowing he had to take whatever she dished out without complaint. "I swear it upon all that is holy to me. I swear it upon Talos' name."

"Vilkas can't stop feeling as if I belong to him. To him, it still feels like I'm his. His woman. His…mate."

"Mate," he said in distaste.

"I call you _kodaavi,_ because the Bear of Eastmarch is your symbol, the totem of the Jarls of Windhelm. I called him _grohiiki_ because he literally was a wolf. A werewolf." Ulfric's eyes widened in shock, a look of horrified disgust on his face. "Well he isn't any longer. He hasn't been for nearly a year. But he was when he took my virginity, and he was when he fell in love with me. I didn't know this until this trip to Riften, but… Werewolves don't always take permanent partners, but when they do, it is _permanent._ They mate for life the way wild wolves sometimes do. Even though he's been cured, Vilkas is mated to me, permanently. He will never want any other woman than me, for as long as I live. So in a way, I am Vilkas' wife, even if he is not my husband." Saying it out loud made a pang of intense loss go through her that made her pull her eyes away from Ulfric's stunned expression to look at the fire. She had talked about all this with Lydia, after Lydia had talked to Aela, the night before leaving Riften. Bryn had known quite well what Aela was telling Vilkas before they left, and he had seemed to accept it with a minimum of fussing. Maybe it had been a relief to him to hear, who knew. It made Bryn feel silly to think that Vilkas had even considered sleeping with Haelga.

Ulfric said in sudden dismayed realization, "It was the entire Circle, wasn't it. The armor they wore…"

"Yes."

"So the Silver Hand attack—"

"Was completely unwarranted," she stated, cutting him off. "They were monsters, worse than any werewolf could be. They were kidnapping and torturing people just on the suspicion that they might be werewolves, or were related to one." To his credit Ulfric looked slightly chastened at that; he obviously had extremely strong feelings about the use of torture in any situation. And the similar behavior from the Thalmor in regard to Talos worshipers went without saying.

"Were you? One of them?"

"I was—am—a member of the Circle. Yes, I was." His look of revulsion was completely expected, and she went on, "For all of three and a half weeks. I changed _once,_ the night I took the Blood, and I refused to feed, on _anything_, and I never changed again. I only accepted it to understand why it tormented Vilkas so, and in the end it was pointless. The wolf never took hold. The dragon didn't allow it. I didn't feel any different other than to feel the wolf cowering away from me." Ulfric tried to stifle his shudder, unsuccessfully, then stripped off his clothes and got into the quickly cooling water to wash. Bryn tossed the drying cloth next to the tub then went to the wardrobe to get clean clothing, and as she pulled on her undergarments she went on, "I never told you because I couldn't do so without outing the others. It wasn't my secret to tell, and frankly, I didn't think there would ever be a point in telling you, because I really don't consider that I was ever a werewolf. I never changed again. I had no wolfish instincts or abilities. I was exactly the same as before, and after Kodlak died we all went and got cured, all but Aela. So yes, she is still a werewolf, and I love her dearly just as she is. As I did all of them, just as they were." He grunted, not looking at her as he washed, a little too vigorously. As if trying to get the taint off his skin. She pressed her lips together to keep from saying anything further. If she did she would end up snapping at him and they would never be able to fix things. It was tempting to not fix things at all, but she was self-aware enough to know that once her anger subsided her love for him would return. As it was, right now she wasn't feeling it at all.

Bryn continued dressing, putting on something pretty and queenly even if she wasn't in the mood to be either. Her hair was so fine that it was half dry at this point, and she combed it back with her fingers then fastened it with a silver clip. She pulled on a pair of soft boots she wore only inside. When she was done she looked at Ulfric and saw him washing his hair, and when he came back up after rinsing he sat there and avoided her eyes, as if waiting for her to leave before he got out. Irritated, still, and all over again, Bryn said, "I will be downstairs with Rikke, taking care of some business. I'll see you at dinner, if you can stomach eating with me."

"Brynhilde," he said in a strangled whisper. She paused, waiting, her expression cold, and he opened his mouth to say something but the words wouldn't come to him. He didn't know what to say, but he knew if she left without him saying something that it would make this entire mess harder to move past. Bryn folded her arms and lifted her chin, still waiting, giving him the chance to speak, and he shivered in the cold water and stood to dry off. "Wait," he pleaded.

"Why, so you can look at me again as if I'm contaminated?" She made a scoffing sound and said, "It isn't even that I was a werewolf for that tiny bit, is it. It's that I was sleeping with one. Deflowered by one." He didn't insult her by denying it, dropping his eyes as he wrapped the cloth around his waist. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Again, it didn't occur to me that it would ever be an issue. I don't see how it's relevant to anything except explaining to you why Vilkas hasn't moved on. He's still the man you've always thought he was. So is Farkas. Their honor is unstained."

"And mine is not," he muttered.

"No, it isn't, but their honor isn't even the issue. My purity is. You didn't really start showing signs of attraction to me until you found out that I came to Skyrim 'pure' and the only man who had ever touched me was a Nord Companion. If my first lover had been a Bosmer or god forbid an Orsimer you never would have let yourself want me."

"That is not true," he said in offense. "You are half mer yourself, and you dare to accuse me of that?"

"What if it had been a Khajiit?" He swallowed, unable to protest that. It wasn't as if she hadn't noticed him watching her with utter disgust as she shared tea with the cat folk in their traditional way. She nearly asked him if she should consider him tainted considering he'd had sex with everything under the sun, but that would be outrageously cruel and would most likely spell the end of their marriage. "I don't find other races sexually attractive at all," Bryn stated. "Not even mer, and I was raised by them. It isn't because there's anything wrong with them. I find the Khajiit beautiful. Even the Argonians have a certain beauty to them. I will sit and share drink and food with them, with anyone, because they are still people." She paused then added, "I knew what Vilkas was. I found out what the Circle was when the Silver Hand attacked Farkas while we were on a job, and he had to change to save us both. I saw Vilkas change once, after we were together, and it changed nothing between us. I didn't care one bit that he was a werewolf. I cared less than he did. Much less. I'm sorry that it disgusts you that I was sleeping with a beast. It isn't as if we were doing it while he was changed."

"I know that," Ulfric said helplessly.

"You told me the first time we slept together that Vilkas didn't realize he had a dragon in his bed. I think perhaps you haven't fully realized that either, _kodaav ahmul. Zu'u los dovah._ I am much less human than a werewolf."

"I am well aware of it. Now." Seeing her come up out of the water and open those golden eyes with the golden aura of a dragon around her had impressed that on him quite clearly. He wasn't really sure at this point where to go from here. What to do with her, or about her. He only knew that he couldn't bear losing her, no matter what she was.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry I've been hard to be around the last few days. Talking to you and Vilkas triggered something in me, and I have no idea how to turn it off." She turned to walk to the door, adding, "Maybe it will be worn off by time I get done with Harkon and my other errands. I need to talk to Tullius afterward, maybe stop by Helg—" She gasped as Ulfric grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around then shoved her against the door, nearly knocking the wind out of her. She blinked in shock as he held her there by her upper arms, the grip painful.

"_Drem,"_ he whispered, half pleading, half demanding. _"Zu'u bolog drem. Zu'u los gahvon grah."_ He felt her relax slightly in his grip, and he loosened it when he realized how tightly he was holding her. _"Zu'u…zu'u los hin zaam, zok brit rekdovahi. Hin aar."_ She blinked slowly as her eyes dilated, her lips parting slightly, and he felt a rush of giddy relief, knowing he had her. Some part of him cringed at having to seduce her, almost feeling as if he was prostituting himself, but he knew of no other way to calm her and regain her favor. If her nature was to blame for her temper, then by Akatosh he would use that nature against her. He turned his head to the side, baring his neck to her, and when he heard a warm murmuring sound of desire and felt her move forward he let go of her arms. She placed a soft, nibbling kiss on his neck at the same time that he felt her fingertips brush his nipples, and it sent a shiver of lust through him.

Bryn ran her tongue up his neck to his ear as his hands settled on her hips. She could feel him growing and hardening between them, and she trailed a hand down his body to run her fingers over his length, hearing him moan softly. "Mm, _zaami,_ eh?" She couldn't help regretting that he had felt driven to saying that to her. Begging her for peace between them. Yielding to her, calling himself her slave, her servant. He was certainly not that, and unfortunately she couldn't even play on it safely, afraid of triggering some kind of traumatic reaction in him, but it was sweet to hear that he wanted her forgiveness so badly, even if it was a bit sneaky of him to use the dragon language on her in that way. She was well aware of what he was doing in that regard. Well, this was probably the only way he could have melted her coldness, and she couldn't resent it. Everything he had done had been out of love for her, even if it had been patronizing. He had certainly learned his lesson.

"Yes!" She began stroking him and at that moment he swore he would do anything she demanded of him, even if it meant her taking him again.

"_Ni zaami,"_ she murmured as she kissed by his ear. _"Ahmuli. Sahrot kodaav bronjun, ahrk ahmuli."_

Bryn took his earlobe in her mouth and sucked at it as she stroked him more firmly, and he closed his eyes and whispered, "Ah, yes, yes, _hin ahmul…"_ So he was forgiven then. And she had given him back some small measure of his pride by calling him her husband and a mighty bear Jarl and telling him he was not a slave. She kissed him and he responded with a lusty growl, stripping the recently-donned clothes off her. As he made love to her he spared a distracted thought that her resonating cries of pleasure would reassure the others that he had made amends with her without anyone having to ask. He supposed someday she would find out that everyone could hear her and get angry about that too, but he would deal with it when the time came.

As they lay entwined under the covers afterwards, Bryn ran her fingers back through Ulfric's loose hair, now dry, watching the light glint off strands of silver. Neither of them said anything for some time, Ulfric probably just as afraid of disturbing the peace between them as she was, fragile as it felt. She drew her finger across his forehead to wipe away the beads of sweat and he kissed her wrist, still catching his breath. He had certainly gone above and beyond the call of duty in pleasing her.

When the silence started becoming too much, nice as the petting and cuddling was, Ulfric finally ventured in a quiet voice, "You were saying something about seeing Tullius? Visiting Helgen?"

"You mean before you seduced me?" He eyed her warily, as if wondering if she were joking, and she wiggled her toes against his and murmured, "I'm glad you did."

"Ah. Good."

"I…ah, I'm sorry. _Krosis, ahmuli."_

Ulfric shook his head and sat up on his elbow. "No. Absolutely not. Vilkas and I did something terrible. We did it out of love for you, but it was wrong all the same. I've regretted it every time I've seen you lost in thought, knowing you're missing him, every time I hear you say his name or _grohiiki_ in your sleep." Her breathing grew uneven as she blinked rapidly, frowning. He sighed and leaned his head on his hand as he traced the strong curve of her shoulder with the other. "Believe me when I tell you that I know how much you love him, Brynhilde," he said in a tone of resigned acceptance. "I meant it when I made that offer. Mara help me, I thought I would pass out when I made it, but I meant it. I know you would never accept it, and I'm sorry if it offended you, but I meant it." Her eyes began to shine as her chin trembled and her body tensed as if she would throw back the covers and leave. He put her arm over her and kept her there, saying sadly, "If half your heart belongs to him, how much worse could it be?"

"My body belongs to you. My favors belong to you." She swallowed and went on in a rough voice, "What do you think you are, a male concubine? You're my husband!"

"So is he."

"I am not a werewolf! No bond ever formed for me the way it did for him. The Blood never took. I never smelled or felt or behaved like a werewolf. And the dragon…dragons are all male. They don't mate. They don't procreate. They simply are. Whatever I feel for Vilkas is a human thing."

"You said _ahmulle."_

"I said it to wound you both, and it was cruel."

"And even after that cruelty, after you walked away from us both, you still looked at each other as if no one else existed for you." She made a growling sound of frustration, and he shook her and firmly said, "No. Do not start in again. I am trying to get through your…damned stubborn head that I know and accept your love for him. I know my place. Yes, I am your husband. Yes, I am ridiculously pleased to know you would never be unfaithful to me, even with permission, even with someone that considers you his wife, in a way. But for Dibella's sake, you have nothing to prove to me when it comes to him. I…simply want you to be able to talk about him without fear that you'll mortally wound me." Bryn looked past him, her body still tight as a bowstring. "Go see him, on your way back home. Sit and talk to him. Try to forge something between you that will give you each some kind of comfort."

"That is not possible."

Ulfric pursed his lips and stared at her for a moment with narrowed eyes, then he said, "You are not making this easy, Brynhilde."

She rolled away from him and out of the bed before he could stop her, and when he sighed heavily and laid back on the bed to look at the ceiling she hissed, "How can anything about this be easy! What do you want from me?"

"I want you to do what you want to do," he answered tiredly. "I want you to be as happy as you can be considering our situation. If you want to talk to him, do so. Your honor and his won't allow you to be unfaithful? Fine, I prefer that, in all honesty. I love you and would rather not share, however I have you because of a lie, and we both know that if you had been forced to choose you would have chosen Vilkas. Perhaps not at first, perhaps you would have given yourself time to think about it, but in the end you would have chosen him."

"You don't know that." He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes, and she insisted with a hint of desperation, "You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do." Bryn didn't protest any further. "As you told Vilkas, you're High Queen, and your choice of a husband needn't have had any political undertones to it. Part of why you came to me in the first place was to gain the loyalty of my faction. You wouldn't have come to me after Sovngarde if you didn't see the potential to love me, I know that, but taking me as your husband was a shrewd political move, even if it disgusted some. I would have followed you regardless, simply because you are Dragonborn and I knew you were right, and most of my people would have as well, but by marrying me you gained a level of loyalty and even love from my followers that you otherwise would have had to work harder to gain. Marrying me also convinced the half of the country that detests me that you could keep me and my ambitions in line." He paused for effect then continued, "However you could have accomplished all these things with Vilkas at your side, just more slowly. As Harbinger he is respected equally in all the holds, and his neutrality would have convinced Skyrim of your own. He's eleven years younger than me. He has no lingering traumas from his past to cloud your relationship. He leads the Companions, who are family to you. His brother and his sister-in-law are your closest friends. He's ridiculously handsome and tall, even for one of our kinsmen, and would make a much more visually appealing match for you than I do, superficial as that may seem. The two of you seem made for each other, while I…I think I was only meant for you for a while."

"Not this again!"

Sensing she was dangerously close to losing her temper again, Ulfric relented, saying, "All right. But know that I am serious that I want you to spend time with Vilkas if it makes you happy. This is not a test of your love and loyalty, or any kind of trick. Go see him on your way home, and do whatever you will short of bedding him. All I ask is that it isn't done in public, to avoid gossip. That's all I ask."

She huffed in annoyance and stepped into the tub of cold water just long enough to rinse off the sweat and wash between her legs. When she stepped back out to dry she saw Ulfric lying on his side watching her, and she muttered at him, "Damn you." He laughed and threw back the covers, and she let out a long, silent breath, feeling a sad resignation come over her. She ran her eyes over his body, nothing like the supremely toned work of art that was Vilkas, but strong and appealing all the same. Ah, if only she could have them both. They were so different from each other, made love to her so differently. She couldn't say that Ulfric wasn't as good a lover as Vilkas, in purely technical terms, but he lacked that certain something Vilkas had. Maybe it was sensuality. She couldn't entirely blame it on the trauma Ulfric had endured, either; from what Rikke had said, when he was young Ulfric had been much more reserved than the others their age in the Legion, rarely taking lovers and always being rather private about it. Vilkas had no reserves in that regard; the abuse he had suffered as a little child had only been physical, and for a short time from what he could recall. It really wasn't fair to compare the two in any way, but how she missed Vilkas' loving. It had reached parts of her heart and soul that Ulfric had never been able to completely breach. She must have been a fool to leave him. She really couldn't recall any more why she had done it, other than pride. Her damned draconic arrogance and pride. She was Dragonborn and by Talos no man was going to refuse her proposal!

"See, there it is again," Ulfric murmured as he walked past her to the tub. She flinched and blinked, coming out of it, then she reached out and caught his arm in a grip of steel, not painful but plenty firm.

"I _love_ you, Ulfric."

"Yes, my treasure, I'm well aware of that," he reassured her, "and I love you more than words can say." She licked her lips, frowning deeply, her eyes on the same level as his, shining like two freshly-struck gold coins in the firelight. He waited, and when she couldn't get the words out he petted her messy hair back and stated, "When you came to me that night, you told me you wished you had died in Sovngarde and stayed there. It wasn't simply because you liked it there. It was because of him. You have been apart from him for how many months now, half a year, and it's as if the pain always stays fresh, for both of you." She let go of his arm as she looked away from him, and he stroked under her chin as he said, "You hate hearing it, but I will say it again: somehow things went awry. Time went sideways somehow, when you gave me that dossier and let me live. However this is what we have, and I don't regret any of it other than lying to you and causing you pain. You have made me happier in our time together than all the happy moments before that added together."

Bryn whispered, "I'm…glad."

"I like to think I've made you happy as well."

"Of course you have." He had also helped mold her into what she was today. He had made her strong, made her accept her nature, even if she still disliked it at times. And yet Vilkas hadn't flinched from it either. When he had looked her in the eyes in Riften he hadn't recoiled from them, the way the Greybeards had, though to be fair the old men had still been riled up about her Shouting from the peak of their mountain and the gathering of dragons up there. Her Voice didn't seem to bother him either. Still, Ulfric had been born to rule, and maybe he wouldn't have been a good High King, but he would have been a strong one, and he had taught her a great deal about ruling, and about the bearing that a ruler should have. She had tempered that with her own belief that a King or Queen should be a servant of the people, something Ulfric had never quite grasped.

"I want you to be happy. I know that the way things are that it simply isn't possible for you to be completely happy, but I want you to do what you want without fearing that I will get angry, or crumble. Your spending a little time with Vilkas every so often will not wound me. He is a good man, no matter what he once was. As you said, he isn't any longer." He moved away from her to get into the tub, and he grit his teeth and lowered himself into the chilly water, feeling his manhood shrink up in defense. "Bloody hell!"

Bryn couldn't help laughing, and as Ulfric quickly washed she leaned over to look into the tub. "Oh, that's adorable," she cooed. "So tiny-" She shrieked as Ulfric lunged up to grab her around the waist and pull her in. The water sloshed over the side onto the floor, making a mess, and when he tweaked her nipple she made a laughing cry and tweaked his in return, hard.

"Ow, you little bitch!" He caught her hands, the sound of her laughter making him laugh in turn. It was good to hear, something that seemed to grow rarer as time went on. He wondered if it was his offer that was letting her relax a bit, and decided it didn't matter if it was. After all, that had been his intent. She would be finished with the vampire crisis within a week and her rule would then begin in earnest, and she would be ineffective if she was spending her time lost in thought and grieving. He trusted that she wouldn't have actual sex with Vilkas, something Vilkas' honor most likely would not allow regardless, and if they should happen to be close in other ways he could live with that. It wouldn't be happening under his roof, or in front of him, though he couldn't help feeling a brief twinge of guilty excitement over the thought of that. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen plenty of that sort of thing in his youth, though he had never partaken in it.

"Hm, what's this?" Bryn purred, feeling something stir between them.

"Let me up and I'll show you, precious." The smooth, wet slide of her body against him was novel, pleasurable, and he murmured, "The next vacation we take should be to the tundra. I think I would like to frolic naked with you in the hot pools." Her eyes lit up at the idea, and he laughed as she climbed out of the little tub then pulled him out of it. He didn't have it in him to finish a second time, but with a little encouragement he could give her another round before he ran out of steam. He would simply have to put in a bit more effort to keep her attention on the here and now while she was home, since she would soon be spending the majority of her time here. If by letting her have small doses of her first love now and then he could keep her thoughts from drifting, then it was worth the small sadness of knowing he wasn't her everything. He had always known he wasn't, and couldn't be; he had married her knowing that would always be the case. It was a bit of a relief though to know he wasn't. She would survive losing him one day, and it would only be because Vilkas was there.


	51. Chapter 51

**A/N: Holy smoke, we've reached 100 reviews. Thank you all so very, very much for following this monstrosity as long as you have. We still have a long way to go before this is over so I'm glad to hear that people are okay with the length of the story.**

**Julie5, LivelyWhite and PEACEisLACKING, a million thanks for the lovely guest reviews!**

"Hail Harbinger!"

"Hail Hjalki," Vilkas answered as he and Njada approached the city gates. He pulled off his helmet and fluffed out his sweaty hair, asking, "How is the wife feeling?"

"Eh, the same," the guard said with a shrug. "Healers say it will pass, but this child's been hard on her. Her mother is coming to stay with us until the sickness passes, to help with the other two. Good thing I get along with her."

"Ah, that's good." He heard Njada mutter something anti-social under her breath and ignored it, but he couldn't ignore when the two guards glanced at each other and Hjalki uneasily rubbed the back of his neck. "Something wrong?"

The other guard hastily said, "Oh no, no. It's just…eh. She's here. The ah, the Dragonborn. The uh, Queen." Vilkas grunted, the Harbinger coming to a stop at the gates while Njada pushed her way through, never one for small talk. "She arrived a few hours ago and said she was headed straight up to the palace to see the Jarl. Can't say where she is now." Vilkas nodded, looking like he appreciated the warning.

Hjalki said to Vilkas, "She just came from Riverwood, and Helgen before that. Taking a look at the rebuild, I gather. Said it's going well."

The other guard went on, "Heard rumors from my da's cousin in Solitude that they're cleaning out the Emperor's Tower. They only do that when he's coming for a visit. Going to be summer before long. Ice will clear out of the Sea of Ghosts. Trade's already picking up, they say. Got a ship in from High Rock a couple weeks ago, believe it or not." Vilkas' eyebrows rose then he nodded thoughtfully.

Hjalki said, "Anyway, better not keep you. You look beat."

"That I am," Vilkas agreed. He went through the gates, feeling a knot of dread in his gut. Well of course Bryn would stop here on her way home, if she had stopped in Helgen. Both Ralof and Hadvar's families lived in Riverwood, so it was a given she would make a stop there as well so the young men could visit. Bryn seldom passed through any Jarl's territory without making a courtesy call, and she loved Balgruuf. And Farkas and Lydia, and the Companions. And Adrianne, and Danica, and everyone else. With a twinge of nervous nausea he wondered how long she was staying. They hadn't parted well. They probably never would. He had sworn to Aela on the way home that Jorrvaskr was always open to Bryn, somewhat insulted that his Shield-Sister even needed to bring it up. If Bryn came around he would retreat downstairs to his quarters and give her space so she could enjoy spending time with the other Companions, and with any luck they could avoid having any more difficult confrontations.

As he passed through the marketplace he saw Lydia and Aerin at Carlotta's stall, no doubt shopping for the components of dinner, and he left them to their business and passed by them unnoticed. When he reached the top of the stairs he saw Hadvar sitting under the ever-blooming branches of the Gildergreen with a dark-haired off-duty guard, but Hadvar didn't notice him either, too engrossed in what was most likely the making of evening plans; the behavior told Vilkas that the younger man was off-duty as well.

Vilkas headed to the back of Jorrvaskr, hearing the clash of training weapons and shouts of encouragement, and he laughed quietly in amusement to see Farkas sparring with Ralof. The two men were similar in size, though Farkas was older and heavier, and much, much more skilled. The blonde was good, but to Vilkas' expert eye it was obvious the lad needed formal training. Bryn couldn't provide it, having become only passable in handling two-handed weapons, preferring a light sword and shield or double wielding. Vilkas glanced around and saw Mjoll with her arm around Bryn's shoulders, the two women standing next to Aela, who sat nursing Skjorta in a chair on the porch. Ralof finally lowered his weapon and held up his hand after a particularly resounding whack on the flank from Farkas. The young man wasn't winded in the slightest, in outstanding shape from his travels with Bryn, but he most likely knew he was completely outmatched.

Vilkas approached the training yard, and Ralof saw him and groaned, covering his eyes. "Harbinger," he said in embarrassment.

"Aw, come on," Farkas said, slapping him on the back. "You just need a few pointers."

"You kicked my pathetic ass. I died a dozen times over." Farkas had challenged him and in his arrogance he had wanted to see how he would do, and he had not done anywhere near as well as he had imagined. He had known Farkas would be much better than him, and clearly it had been a test, but the Companion had wiped the floor with him. And that Vilkas, the master of two-handed swordplay, had seen the entire thing was humiliating.

"Fourteen times. I counted." He put the practice sword on his shoulder and said, "Maybe Vilkas can show you a thing or two. How long are you in town?"

Ralof glanced at Bryn, and she stated, "I was planning on leaving in the morning, but we could stay through tomorrow and leave the next day. I don't mind, if you would like to train with the Harbinger a bit, and he's available." She would certainly enjoy spending some time here at Jorrvaskr. She supposed it all depended on how tonight went. She and her men had been invited to dinner by Lydia, Mjoll and Aela, and she was looking forward to it as much as it pained her. She hadn't set foot inside the mead hall since the day she left Vilkas.

"I am," Vilkas stated quietly.

"I would pay you for the time and your services."

"That will not be necessary. He guards the High Queen of Skyrim. It would be my honor." It was actually rather hurtful that she had offered to pay him. Impersonal. He nodded with his chin to Ralof and said, "Be here by ten in the morning. Do not eat a heavy breakfast or you will regret it."

Torvar guffawed and said to Ralof, "I hope you kissed your mama goodbye." The young man looked at Vilkas with trepidation, making Torvar laugh into his mug and Athis snicker.

Mjoll chided, "Leave the lad alone. He clearly has promise if he is good enough to guard our lady Queen." She let go of Bryn and gave her a hard nudge. "Speaking of which, you promised me a go. No time like the present."

Bryn grimaced as if to protest but the four junior Companions present cried out in encouragement. Farkas grinned and said, "Come on, little bird! I want to see what kind of wallop you're packing these days."

Ralof said in a wary tone, "That eh…may not be the wisest thing to do."

Mjoll sputtered, "Pshaw. I'm no delicate maiden. I'm not afraid of some bruises or broken bones. She promised me in Riften that I would finally get to spar with her next time I saw her. We both still have our armor on. It is now or never."

"All right," Bryn sighed. Ria squealed in delight, clapping her hands together, and Bryn undid her belt and handed her sheathed weapons to the Imperial girl, who took them with wide eyes, Athis and Erik moving closer to take a look at the legendary swords. Bryn went to the rack of practice weapons, where Farkas was returning the wooden greatswords, one of which he handed to Mjoll. Bryn looked over the training weapons and took out two swords, hefting them in her hands then walking out into the open, twirling them.

"Ooh, fancy," the Lioness teased. "Where did you learn to twirl your swords so prettily, eh? Some dainty Breton?" Bryn couldn't help laughing at that, which had been Mjoll's aim. Bryn wouldn't give it her all if she was being uptight, and she was being uptight because of the dark, brooding presence in ebony at the corner of the porch. Mjoll wanted a challenge, and the twins were the only fighters she had met who were.

Bryn smirked at her and said, "My very last teacher was Chief Burguk of Dushnikh Yal, a master trainer in light weapons. He sent me on my way when he had nothing more to teach me. That was a long time ago."

"Yes yes, you told me that stale old story when we were dismantling the Thieves Guild. Seems to me all you really did was a lot of bow work and sneaking."

"Ha!"

"So, no Shouting, yeah?" Bryn rolled her eyes, knowing the demand was ridiculous; of course she wouldn't stack the odds in that way. Mjoll wanted a straight fight, and she wanted to see what her friend could do. It was all in good fun. She said to Aela, "Cover the baby's eyes, honey. This is going to get bloody." The gathered Companions laughed at that, including Aela.

"It won't be my blood," Bryn countered, adding to Aela, "I hope you still think she's pretty with a few teeth knocked out." There was fresh laughter, and when she finally glanced at Vilkas he was leaning against a post at the corner of the porch, Ralof and his brother next to him, all three men smiling. She quickly looked away, wanting to leave it that way.

Torvar leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and said with glee, "By the Nine, I love me a girl fight!"

Bryn performed an elaborate Altmer bow then charged at Mjoll, shouting thunderously, "_Krongrah los dii, Spaan-Briinah!"_

Mjoll moved to block the charge, crying, "I said no Shouting!"

"That isn't Shouting, it's yelling," Farkas said helpfully.

Bryn pulled up her charge short then spun low to catch Mjoll across the back of her knees, making her cry out, and when her friend swung the greatsword she flattened herself then rolled away and up to her feet again. The tip of Mjoll's sword grazed her upper arm and she knocked it away with her right sword then shoved the tip of her left into Mjoll's abdomen. Mjoll grunted but her armor blocked any injury, though it was obvious it was a disabling if not killing blow. Bryn backed away, and Mjoll roared and came after her, and when Bryn tried to block her downswing with crossed swords the force of the blow broke through both practice swords. The crossguards stopped the swing from landing, and Bryn had to grit her teeth to stop herself from instinctively Shouting _FUS_ to get her friend off. She could get her off quite easily without Shouting, but she wasn't sure she could do it without using an excess of force.

Mjoll grinned at her as the two women struggled. "What's the matter? Trying to figure out how to get out of this, eh?" Mjoll said breathlessly.

"I don't want to hurt you," Bryn said with worry. "I haven't sparred in a long time." She did enough fighting that she didn't need to.

"Don't be a baby. Come on and hurt me!" She felt a twinge of misgiving when Bryn's nostrils flared, and the younger woman dropped away and nearly disappeared for a moment, and before Mjoll could turn to find her she felt something slam into her back, flattening her onto her stomach. She rolled onto her back and grunted as a knee drove into her gut and she found her own sword across her throat.

"_Gahvon, Spaan-Briinah?"_

"What?"

"Do you yield, Shield-Sister?"

"Yes, yes, I yield, miss fancy-pants," she said good-naturedly. Bryn smiled and pulled her to her feet, kissing her cheek, and Mjoll grinned at her and said, "You fight dirty."

"I usually fight much dirtier than that. I nearly Shouted you in the face." She saw movement up at the Skyforge and Eorlund was there watching, and when he bowed to her she smiled at him and gave him a wave. He nodded and went back to work. Bryn handed the wooden greatsword back to Mjoll then held her palm out to her and healed her, though there would have been nothing but a few good bruises to show for their short fight.

"Oh, stop it, stop it," Mjoll chided her. "What's a few sore spots?" She nodded towards Vilkas and called to him, "Bryn's staying for dinner, any problem with that?"

Aela sighed and shook her head, and Vilkas stated in an exasperated tone, "No, I do not have a problem with that. She is still a member of the Circle, still a Companion. Jorrvaskr's doors are always open to her." When he looked at Bryn she was looking sideways at him, and when she smiled slightly at him he let out a silent breath along with a small amount of tension. So she was no longer angry with him. That was good, but it was upsetting that she was here, and would be eating dinner in his hall. She hadn't crossed the threshold since the day she had left him, a day that simultaneously felt ages ago and just yesterday.

He bowed slightly to her then turned away. As he entered the hall he saw Lydia and Aerin had returned and were making dinner, both of them giving him a brief smile as he passed. He returned it as best he could then went downstairs to the living area. He took his time stripping off his armor and storing it neatly; it didn't need more than a little buffing later, the job with Njada routine and rather dull. She wasn't particularly fascinating company, either. He headed downstairs to the bathing room, an outrageous luxury that on its own made living here more than worth it. He saw signs that someone had recently been here, probably Njada, and she had picked up after herself, something she was still doing with reluctance, having gotten used to Tilma's ceaseless efforts to look after everyone. Lydia had no patience for being everyone's mother, and Aerin didn't have as much time to tend to Jorrvaskr has he once had, looking into partnering with Ysolda to buy the Bannered Mare from Hulda, who was eager to retire down to Bruma, where her son and grandchildren lived, now that the borders were open, if closely monitored. If Aerin was going to look after people, better to do it for coin in his own business than just a roof over his head.

Vilkas opened the hot and cold water sluices to fill the stone tub then sank into the steaming water with a grateful sigh, leaning back to close his eyes. For a brief moment he briefly entertained a silly fantasy of Bryn wandering in 'accidentally', something that of course had a snowball's chance in Oblivion of happening. The two of them had had many a pleasant interlude down here during the year they were together, and having her here now was certainly making it all fresh again. That small, enigmatic smile she had given him was driving him mad, wondering what it meant, or if it meant anything more than that he was forgiven for going behind her back. There was really no way the smile could mean much, seeing as how she was another man's wife.

He stayed in the water until his fingers and toes were wrinkled, but he certainly felt clean. He dried and dressed then pulled the drain, washing several days' worth of grime down to…wherever it went. He never had figured that out, or had ever found any document in the archives that gave any kind of satisfactory explanation for the advanced heating and plumbing system of Jorrvaskr, or how the ship itself had made it here to the plains, and then had gotten flipped over and turned into the mead hall. He had asked Lydia not long after returning from the wedding a few weeks ago if the Heart would answer questions, and she had shaken her head. It all seemed to go one way. She still wasn't entirely used to the thing and didn't particularly like it, but it was hers until another mistress of the hall took her place, fifty- or sixty-odd years from now. Vilkas wasn't particularly comfortable with the Heart either, wondering just what it felt was worth mentioning, or not. He didn't really like the notion that it might be telling Lydia every time he whacked off or used the privy.

Dressed and clean, and dreading dinner, Vilkas went back upstairs to the living quarters, wondering if it would be churlish of him to eat downstairs when everyone else would be up in the hall. It wasn't as if he couldn't handle eating in the same room with her, though it would be awkward. He knew damn well that his eyes would keep getting drawn to her, over and over again, now that she knew that he had seen the same vision she had, and knew that he had basically handed her over to Ulfric. He hoped she understood why they had misled her, unforgivable as it was in hindsight.

His heart went into his throat as he entered his quarters and saw Bryn standing in front a display case of Dwemer weapons, ones she had seen a thousand times before, her hands clasped behind her. She also looked freshly bathed, her hair still slightly damp at the tips, loose on her shoulders and hanging down her back. She had changed out of her armor into fine clothing of a pale green silk tunic and deep yellow wool pants, her only jewelry her wedding ring and an Amulet of Talos, but it was like none he had ever seen, and he was seeing them more and more often lately. This one was made of gold chased with silver and it hung from a gold chain. No doubt she had made it herself at some point, with the jewelry making skills she had learned from Balimund's big hands. It was laughable that Vilkas had ever been jealous of the smith, when the much greater threat had come from himself. When Bryn said nothing, Vilkas glanced behind him down the hall, expecting to see Ralof standing guard; he wasn't. He asked in a tense voice, "Where is Ralof?"

"Enjoying Njada and Ria's attention in a corner upstairs," she murmured. "Last I saw they were trying to outdo each other, trying to win his favor. He might as well bed them both at the same time and end the rivalry." She glanced at him and added, "I offered to let him be my chaperone. I think I embarrassed him. He refused to come down here. He said it wasn't his place." She was also fairly certain that Ulfric had talked to him about it before they had left Windhelm; as they were leaving Ralof had looked between his Queen and the Jarl with poorly hidden worry, then Ulfric had shaken his head discreetly, though not discreetly enough to keep Bryn from seeing it. She didn't doubt that Ulfric had explained the situation as best he could, without mentioning his eventual demise, and had told the young man to trust Bryn's fidelity and turn a blind eye to everything else and let her and Vilkas be.

While she appreciated that, she had hoped to keep Ralof out of it. Hadvar took a more mature view of things and was entirely Bryn's man, but Ralof saw things in a much more black-and-white manner and loved Ulfric dearly. It had no doubt upset him to hear his Jarl condoning Bryn spending time alone with Vilkas. Well, it had upset Bryn too. She still wasn't happy about it, but having the last several weeks of travel to ponder the issue had left her resigned to it. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about Vilkas while she was away from home, though she missed Ulfric. He had attended her nearly every waking moment during the day and a half that she had been in Windhelm, treating her with the utmost consideration, driving thoughts of Vilkas back. And then she had left home, and her heart and mind constantly betrayed her.

"So what ah…brings you to me?" Bryn shrugged, her cheeks turning faintly pink. Unsettled, he kept it safe and asked, "Find any strange creatures in your travels?"

"Oh yes, quite a few. Things I don't think you've ever seen before." She turned away to sit in a chair, the one he had been sitting in when she first laid eyes on him. "In the Forgotten Vale we saw Frost Giants, like immense trolls, but they carried clubs as giants do. Each one I killed carried a huge jewel called a Paragon. Five of them. Each unlocked a portal to an otherwise inaccessible area of the Vale. I found Auriel's Shield in one of them. I commissioned holders for the jewels from Oengul, so I can display them. They're very pretty." Vilkas nodded, and she motioned towards the Harbinger's chair. He licked his lips, hesitating, and she asked, "Do you want to close the doors?"

Taken aback, Vilkas stared at her for a moment, seeing she was blushing again, and he whispered in confusion, "Should I?" She shrugged one shoulder. "Do you want me to?" he pressed.

"I would prefer it, yes."

The slight tremor to her voice gave him pause, and he pleaded, "Please tell me you aren't going to lay into me again."

"No, I'm not. That isn't what I'm here for."

"Then what? Because you surely aren't here to tell me about your adventures."

"Actually, that is part of it. I wanted to tell you what I saw in Sovngarde. I wanted to tell you about Kodlak. And Ysgramor. Seeing as how you didn't get my letter telling you any of those things. Or anything else." She heard him take in a shaky breath then he turned and shut the doors. He kept his back to her, his hands on the handles, and she fiddled with the ebony band on her left ring finger as she quietly stated, "I would have chosen you."

Shocked, Vilkas cried in dismay, "Don't tell me that!"

"Did you really think I wouldn't choose you? Do you know what I nearly did in Sovngarde? Do you know what I nearly did when I came back from there? I climbed the peak of the Throat of the World and stood on the highest point in Tamriel, and I looked down on Whiterun and realized what I had done to you, and I nearly jumped." He made a sound of anguish and ran his fingers back through his wet hair. "My pride was my undoing. _Our_ undoing. I was too proud to tolerate your rejection of my proposal, and too proud to accept when you turned around and said yes, and too proud to face you in person after Sovngarde. I am Dragonborn, the most powerful being in the known world, and why should I go grovel to the man who rejected me?"

"I didn't reject you," he choked as he rubbed his eyes. "I…I felt what we had was enough."

"Yes, I suppose you did. After all, we're mated for life, aren't we?"

He laughed bitterly, saying, "Well, I am."

"And you think I'm not, in my own way?" she countered, getting up from the seat. "What do you think it does to Ulfric to catch me daydreaming about you, from before we ever married? I've tried so hard not to, and he's never given me grief over it, but nothing I do or he does stops it for long. It doesn't stop me from talking about you in my sleep, where he can hear it, where Divines help me Ralof and Hadvar and Rikke have heard it. I could manage, before the Scrolls, but ever since then it…_haunts_ me, constantly. I keep seeing and feeling it, over and over again, you and the children." The catch in her voice made him turn sideways to look at her, his eyes damp. Well so were hers.

"Ulfric thinks…he thinks the boy is his."

"Unfortunately so do I. _Mal kodaav kiir_…a little bear child." She folded her arms tightly as she closed her eyes in fresh grief. There was really no concrete reason to think the blond little boy was Ulfric's, other than her calling him cub, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was. It made her determined to avoid getting pregnant as long as possible. Not that she had the freedom to even try until the Aldmeri Dominion was dealt with. She would give up her long-time dream for a child if it meant keeping Ulfric alive, no matter how much she wanted to be with Vilkas.

"If he is…I would raise him as my own, I swear it. I would take care of you both." He expected her to break into tears, but she simply sighed miserably and nodded. It was as if she was too worn down or too broken at this point to cry anymore. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Mara forgive me, I've fucked up everything, just as I knew I would. I told Farkas I would, and I did."

"You did much less than I," she muttered, opening her eyes and looking away.

"I can't believe you considered killing yourself. Mjoll told me you nearly did in Sovngarde, but she didn't tell me about the mountain."

"Because she doesn't know."

"Why didn't you just come back?" he asked in a tone of mixed sorrow and exasperation. "You would consider killing yourself but you couldn't face me? Why?"

"Why? Look at me! Listen to me! Why do you think?"

Vilkas' eyes widened in offense. "So you thought I would think you're a freak, is that it? When have I ever turned away from what you are? When Mjoll came here she explained what happened, why your eyes and voice changed. We heard you here, clear as a bell. I wept when I heard that and realized you were still alive. I kept hoping you would come back, give me some sign that we could fix things. Maybe I should have gone to see you, but you turned away from me that last time. I knew why, but I thought maybe it was permanent. If you had at least let Mjoll say something to me I would have gone to you." She didn't defend herself, trembling slightly, not meeting his eyes. He waited, and when nearly half a minute had gone by he prompted in frustration, "Well?"

"I hate what I am. I still do."

He sighed in understanding and went to her, unable to avoid it any longer. He put one hand on her shoulder and tilted up her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. He made a sound of frustrated longing and stroked her cheek, enjoying being able to touch her again after so long. Her eyes were startling this close up, so bright and shining that it seemed they would glow in the dark, but they were Divine-touched, beautiful. He quietly said, "Just because you hate it doesn't mean anyone else does. I would not have turned away from you. I never will." He sucked in a startled breath as she whimpered and threw herself against him, putting her arms around his waist. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders as he leaned his head against hers, whispering, "Ah love, what have we done to each other…" She laid her head on his shoulder, the only woman he had ever met tall enough to do so. She fit against him so perfectly. He was well aware that she could feel his growing desire between them but found it impossible to care. So what if she was Ulfric's wife? It was only because Vilkas had stupidly given her to him, and she had been Vilkas' first. She was still his. This was only a temporary separation. He felt a twinge of sudden panic as she pressed her stomach against his groin at the same time that she hugged the small of his back, and he whispered, "Sweet Dibella, don't do that! You will get us both in trouble!"

"There won't be any trouble," she murmured against his neck. "Ulfric knows."

"Wh-what?" Vilkas groaned as her hands went inside his shirt and he felt her bare hands on his skin. She kissed his neck then nipped at it, making him shudder.

"He said I could do whatever I wanted, short of sleeping with you."

"But…that's still…" he choked, feeling her hands slide up his ribs. When she touched her lips to his, his head reared back as he protested, "It is still wrong!"

"Why?"

"Because you're another man's wife!"

"Does it feel like I am, _grohiiki?_ Or does it feel like I'm yours?"

"It doesn't matter what I feel!"

She let go of him and growled, "Or what I feel, apparently!" He sighed and shook his head helplessly, and she made a hissing sound of irritation and frustration, feeling herself aching with unmet need. She moved away from him and went for the door, saying, "You say you would never turn away from me and not a moment later you do!"

Vilkas put his hand on the door, stopping her. "I did _not_ turn away from you. I kept you from being unfaithful to your husband, and kept myself from sullying my honor. It does not matter that it feels as if you're still mine, you wear another man's ring on your finger. You took vows—"

"Under false pretenses!"

"They were vows all the same."

"Do you know what he told me? The day we got home? He told me if I wanted to see you from time to time that he would look the other way. He asked if it would even be infidelity or an affair, considering our situation. I told him he was out of his mind, that I understood what marriage meant to Nords, and as relieved as he was, still, he told me again that he thought it would be good for me if I saw you once in a while, that I could have you any way I wanted as long as I didn't have actual sex with you. He wouldn't let it go. He convinced me that it wasn't a big deal, and for the last three weeks it was all I could think about, and I come here willing to let it happen and you tell me no?"

"Because it is wrong even with his permission," Vilkas insisted. Still, it was shocking to hear, that Ulfric had given it. The other man was probably just happy that Bryn wasn't going to leave him over his part in the lie and was willing to take whatever he could get out of what was left of his marriage. "What kind of hell did you put him through on the way back to Windhelm that made him agree to such a thing?" Bryn's nostrils flared furiously, and he went on in disapproval, "You did, didn't you. Of course he agreed to whatever he thought would win back your favor, if you spent the entire trip home yelling at him."

"I did _not_ yell at him! I didn't speak to him or even look at him!"

"That's even worse." She glared at him with her jaw clenched, trembling with anger and upset, and he reached for her as he sighed, "Come love, don't be so—" She stepped back out of his reach. "Damn it, Brynhilde!"

"Don't touch me. Never touch me again."

"I wasn't going to start anything. I never intended to the first time, either."

"It will no matter what you do. You think you can put your hands on me and nothing will happen?"

"I only wanted to comfort you, and myself," he said in a pleading voice.

"I'm not what I was, Vilkas. I may dislike what I am, but I've accepted what I am, and since I read the Scrolls it's only gotten worse. You can't rile the dragon and heat my blood then simply step away. _Dovah smoliin uznahgaar._ It doesn't work like that. I don't work like that. Not anymore." He swallowed as he nodded then shivered the slightest bit, though it seemed equal parts anxiety and desire. Yes, he would respond to her aggression just as she wanted, if he were free to do so, and if she were free, but they weren't. He was right about that. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, trying to let go of her anger. _"Horvutah,"_ she muttered tiredly. _"Mahfaeraak horvutah. Niid drem. Tahrodiis kodaav."_

Vilkas reached out and took her left hand, making her eyes fly open, and she tensed to pull away but he shook his head. "No. We can give ourselves this much." She gazed at him painfully, and when he began to knead her palm she blew out a long breath then closed her eyes again. He could feel the tension leaving her by the second. Farkas had always had a knack for calming her with a shoulder rub or an enveloping hug, but holding her hand was all Vilkas dared. He gently tugged her over to sit back down in the chair, and he dragged his over to sit in front of her and took both her hands in his and continued rubbing her palms. "What did you say just then?"

"Dragon passion unbridled," she murmured, closing her eyes. "Forever trapped. No peace. Treacherous bear."

"He did it out of love for you," he reminded her. "We both did, stupid as it was."

"I know that."

"I do love you."

"Ah, _grohiiki_…I love you too," she whispered. She felt a light peck on her forehead and nearly protested it, but couldn't find it in her to do so. She kept her eyes shut, unable to bear the thought of that perfect face so close to hers. So close and yet inaccessible. "You and your damn honor."

Vilkas laughed quietly and said, "You will be glad for it when you get home and can look at Ulfric with a clean conscience."

She grumbled, "Yes." She could already see the relief that would be on her husband's face when he realized nothing had happened. No matter how he loved her, no man in his right mind wanted to share his wife. Like it or not, it would have wounded Ulfric if she had carried through on his offer. It was rather ironic that Vilkas had been the one to see things clearly. She hadn't been able to see or feel with any clarity since reading the Elder Scrolls. The damned Dragon Scroll was still in her backpack, up in Dragonsreach, taunting her with the offer of more visions of a happy future with her beloved and their children. There was no way in hell she was giving in to the abominable thing.

"Tell me about Sovngarde, and Kodlak. And Ysgramor. All of it."

"I'll tell everyone at dinner. If you sit by me."

"Yes love, I will sit by you," he promised.

"I wish I knew what happened to the letter."

"That is something I don't think we will ever know." He paused then stated, "Lydia thinks it was your 'friend' who sent you those letters." Bryn's eyes flew open in shock, and he frowned and asked, "She didn't say anything?"

"No, we had too many other things to talk about."

"It was only a theory, but one that has merit, I think. If my letter was with the one to Lydia and Farkas…"

"Yes, they were bundled together. With a string." She reached up with one hand to clutch the amulet, one that Lortheim had blessed and enchanted for her. As she stared past Vilkas at the closed doors she couldn't help thinking he and Lydia were right. It would take some sort of supernatural agency to separate the letters and make Vilkas' disappear. Talos had supposedly appeared to the Nerevarine once, as an avatar, and had given him a lucky septim. The Divines did send avatars to Nirn from time to time, to accomplish directly that which otherwise might not get done. It wasn't far-fetched to imagine the courier running across an older man on the road, maybe sharing a campsite with him for the night, then going on his way the next morning one letter short. And why wouldn't Talos prefer the Dragonborn to be with Ulfric Stormcloak, the man who had fought and suffered so for his cause?

"Well…what did it say?"

She frowned and kept her eyes off his face as she said with some difficulty, "That I was sorry for hurting you, and still loved you and would marry you if you would have me. Or just go back to how things were if that was what you wanted. I asked you to write me back, or just come to Riften, and…"

"And I never showed up," he whispered sadly. "What you must have thought of me." As Mjoll had said, Bryn had waited, and prayed, and had finally given up and had gone straight to Ulfric. What an insane mess, the extent of which only became clearer the more Vilkas talked to the two of them. Of course it all could have been avoided if he had just said yes to her proposal, or better yet asked her himself when he had first wanted to, which in hindsight had been all the way back when she had gotten so gravely wounded by that bandit's arrow. He would never forgive himself for it, not even when she was finally his again. In order for that to happen Ulfric had to die. It was a cruel thing to have to look forward to; the price was too high.

"Water under the bridge." Bryn sighed heavily, and when she felt Vilkas' hand on her cheek she leaned into it, putting her own hand over it, and when she looked up at him he was staring at her with an expression of grief. "What am I going to do?" she asked in a plaintive tone. "I don't want to go home. Windhelm doesn't feel like home. Whiterun does, even Riften does, but not Windhelm!" Even Solitude was warmer and more welcoming than Windhelm, and it wasn't just because of the weather.

"And how much time have you spent there?" he countered in a soothing tone. He took both her hands in his and held them, answering for her, "A week at a time at most. You've had no time at all to make the place your own, the Palace or the city. You have no other adventures lined up, so spend your time doing what you feel you need to in order to make it your home. Ulfric has enjoyed his bachelor life long enough." Bryn didn't laugh at his joke. "Whatever you dislike about Windhelm, change it. If Ulfric doesn't like it, too damn bad. If he was willing to share you with me, he should be willing to do whatever you want to make you comfortable in his city. It became your city as well when he married you, and he already knew then that you disapproved of how he ran it."

She nodded slowly, feeling some of her helplessness ebb. Yes, whipping Windhelm into shape would be a project worthy of her. Winterhold wasn't far from Windhelm, less than a day's sail, so she could go there a few days a month to continue her studies at the College and provide some encouragement for Korir's rebuilding efforts, which seemed to have stalled lately due to his wife's disapproval. She had visited all the holds and all the Jarls within the last month and a half, so she could finally settle into Windhelm and get down to the real business of being High Queen…whatever that was. Rikke had filled in for her long enough. She tried to smile as she said, "Surely I won't have to give up adventuring entirely."

"I am sure you won't. You are still as much a magnet for trouble as always." She smiled more fully at him, and he sighed and squeezed her hands as he leaned forward to press his lips against her forehead. He smelled the lavender in her hair and tried to find some peace in the moment. There was peace between them, and that was what mattered. He would get by the same as before, would still be lonely, but with a clear head. He could only hope that his beloved found some way to clear her own.

* * *

"Her Majesty returned night before last, my lord."

"Aye," Ulfric said with a nod, and as he went through the city gates he felt his stomach start to churn with the anxiety he had tried so fruitlessly to stifle for the last couple weeks. He had been fine when Bryn left for Castle Volkihar, and pleased when she had written him from Solitude telling him that the vampire Lord Harkon was utterly destroyed along with his minions, that she and Serana had retrieved Valerica from the Soul Cairn and the two vampire women would be cleaning up the bloody mess that was the island, and that Bryn would be staying in Elisif's city for several days to visit with Tullius and attempt once more to meet with Elisif. She had written him again a week later saying she was in Markarth and would spend about a week in the Reach visiting Igmund's court and looking into the Forsworn problem more closely; when next she had written she was in Falkreath, in Dengeir's hall, and intended to pass through Helgen then Riverwood then Whiterun on the way home.

That was the last he had heard of her, and ever since then he had been plagued with thoughts of her in Whiterun. In Vilkas' city. In Vilkas' hall. In Vilkas' quarters. In Vilkas' arms. He had tried desperately to shake off the thoughts, telling himself that he had given her permission, that he had caused all this in the first place by lying to her, trapping her in a marriage that she would not have entered into if given the choice. He knew damn well she would have chosen Vilkas. It had gotten so bad that Galmar had finally gotten sick of his brooding and had forced him into a long hunting trip with some of the men in the Velothi Mountains to the east. Galmar had no idea that Ulfric had made Bryn that offer, or had told Ralof to ignore any signs that she was taking him up on said offer. That Ulfric feared his best friend might find out should have told him how stupid the idea had been. Well, it was done, and there was no taking it back. He would have to live with this decision the way he had to live with every other he had ever made.

Ulfric paused in surprise at the steps leading up to the courtyard in front of the palace, and Galmar grunted and said, "Suppose it had to get done sooner or later." A mixed Nord and Dunmer crew, mostly Dunmer, were at work resetting the stones, many of which had been askew or missing for decades if not centuries; Captain Lonely-Gale and Brunwulf Free-Winter were supervising, and while the Nord and Dunmer workers kept casting cold or suspicious glances at each other they were working silently and efficiently. Rikke had told Galmar and Jorleif that Bryn wanted Windhelm 'cleaned up' at some point but hadn't given specifics; it seemed she had finally provided some. Galmar had to admit it was a decent idea, though for folk who had lived here their entire lives it simply hadn't occurred to them.

Brunwulf and Lonely-Gale noticed the Jarl's presence and bowed to Ulfric, glancing at each other warily, and he nodded to them and hesitated before reluctantly saying, "This was well overdue."

"Aye my Jarl," both men answered in relief.

He took a deep breath and continued on his way, unable to find fault with the project. Everyone was so used to much of the stonework inside the city being damaged or off-kilter that it was never really noticed. He supposed to Bryn's objective gaze, and probably Rikke's as well, the city looked like it was falling apart. The outer walls and defenses were always pristine, and Ulfric had always considered that enough. He had always thought Balgruuf a fool for not spending the time and money to fix Whiterun's walls, though Bryn had told Ulfric that the inside of the city was well-maintained and the folk well-fed and content for the most part. He had been used to thinking in terms of war for so long that that was how his priorities had been arranged. Even his father Fjonnar had always ignored certain things. Well, if Bryn wanted to make repairs it was her prerogative; she was Lady of Eastmarch and Windhelm as much as she was High Queen. Jorleif would keep her apprised of what funds were available, and she of course had plenty of her own.

As he entered the courtyard he saw that the bronze memorial plaques to prior High Kings had been cleaned and were now fully legible. He snorted a laugh to himself and entered the Palace, and the sound of his party's entry drew Bryn's attention out of the sitting room. She smiled happily at the sight of him and came towards him with Rikke on her heels, and a gut-wrenching surge of jealousy went through him at how cheerful she looked. She was so beautiful with her hair loose around her shoulders, wearing a light bluish-green dress with a leather bodice and soft boots. Jorleif called for the servants to set up a bath for the Jarl, and Bryn met him halfway across the hall while half the guards headed down to the barracks and the other half carried the week's game to the kitchens. Galmar greeted Rikke with a big hug then she cried out and swatted at him for how he smelled, which couldn't be any worse than how Ulfric smelled after a week in the wilds.

Bryn stopped short of hugging Ulfric, seeing him blinking more than he should, the muscles along his jaw twitching. It was obvious what was wrong, and it made her grateful for the thousandth time to Vilkas for stopping her from doing the unforgivable. She made a sound of sorrow and murmured, _"Nid krosis, ahmuli. Zu'u drey ni nok voth grohiiki. Zu'u los nunon hin rekdovah, mahfaeraak."_ He closed his eyes briefly, letting out a shuddering breath, then he swept her into a hug and held her tightly. She could feel him trembling with relief, and it made her ill to think of how close she had come to betraying him. _Kogaan, grohiiki,_ she thought fervently. Blessings to Vilkas for guarding his honor, and hers. She whispered in Ulfric's ear, "He asked me what the happiest day of my life was, and I told him the truth: the day I married you." Vilkas had known that when he asked her, too. Ulfric made a choking sound and tightened his hold on her. After a while he finally loosened his grip, and she petted his cheeks, seeing his eyes were shining damply. "I like this," she murmured, stroking the full beard he wore. It made him look a little older, but it was very masculine, very Nord, and very flattering.

"I will keep it then," he replied quietly. He stared into her eyes, seeing only a little sadness, and none of the edge that had been there when she left. He whispered, "Ah, my treasure. You are too fine for me." She shook her head, not dignifying his statement with an answer. He saw Rikke and Galmar going upstairs hand in hand, and he let them have a head start, leaning close to kiss his wife lingeringly, their arms still around each other. When he pulled back to look her in the eyes again he asked, "Were you able to visit with him, at least?"

"Yes. We said what had to be said, in private. We held hands, and he kissed me on the forehead. That was all." He nodded, fresh relief in his expression as he smiled at her. She left it at that; it would hurt him terribly to hear that she had literally thrown herself at Vilkas like some cheap tart. What mattered was that nothing ended up happening. "We sat by each other at dinner, in Jorrvaskr. All the Companions were there and I told them about Sovngarde, and Kodlak and Ysgramor. It was… wonderful. Like old times." Ralof had just about been splitting at the seams, he was so proud to be feasting with the Companions, and he had ended up with both Njada and Ria that night, in Skjor's old room, though she had to wonder just how stellar the performance was as drunk as all three of them were. He had been extremely subdued the next morning though, and Vilkas had nearly forced him to train with a hangover to teach him a lesson; Lydia had taken pity on the young man and dosed him with some potions. Bryn had slept up at Dragonsreach, Farkas walking her back that night like a gentleman, and she had spent the day around Whiterun visiting and feeling only a little sad. Each day after that had gotten better, imagining what Ulfric's reaction would have been. Seeing it just now certainly drove home how idiotic it would have been to dally with Vilkas in any way.

"I'm glad."

"Vilkas spent half the next day training Ralof, as a favor."

"Ah. Yes. The lad is good, but nothing can replace formal training, especially with a Master. Perhaps we can have him train with Torbjorn Shatter-Shield here, if the man ever sobers up. He is no Vilkas, but he was a great warrior when he was young." He put his arm around her and headed towards the sitting room, seeing servants carrying the tub upstairs. It would take them some time to heat water and fill the tub, so he would sit and talk to his wife for a while in the meantime.

Watching the servants go, Bryn said wistfully, "I wish we had some way of making a bathing room like Jorrvaskr has."

"My father's mother, when I was a wee lad, told me that her grandfather told her when she was small that his own grandfather had once said that the Palace was heated and had a bathing room, long ago, but an earthquake damaged the systems and they never worked again. I've been over every inch of this place and have never seen evidence of a bathing room, or any heating system, but perhaps it was removed and the room converted into something else. The Atmorans were a great people; it is impossible to say what knowledge they had that we have lost." Bryn nodded thoughtfully, and he patted her on the backside and said, "I'll get washed up soon enough, precious. Then I'm going to pound you into that bed."

She laughed and replied, "You had better, _ahmuli."_

"_Geh, hin ahmul."_

She sighed and smiled sadly at him, leaning in to kiss his weathered cheek. _"Geh, nunon ahmuli."_ At least for as long as she had him.


	52. Chapter 52

**A/N: Warning...this chapter addresses Ulfric's past traumas in more detail. I thought I would mention it in advance as I have read that some people can be 'triggered' by such things.**

* * *

Only the sweatiness of Ulfric's palms betrayed his unease as he led Bryn down the gangplank from the small boat they had hired to bring them to Solitude. The Emperor's ship _Katariah_ bobbed in the waters of the Karth River, patrolled by sharp-eyed soldiers of the Penitus Oculatus, some of whom watched their small group with ill-disguised suspicion, particularly Bryn. She found it somewhat amusing, considering how very little she wanted the Emperor's position or responsibilities. Her own were quite enough.

While it had been wonderful to spend the last nearly two months at home in Windhelm with her husband, it was quickly becoming apparent to her just how unexciting and sometimes frustrating the position of High Queen really was. She had expected when she took the job that she probably wouldn't enjoy it, but she hadn't expected quite the level of tedium that she had encountered. The letters never seemed to end, though Rikke did a fantastic job of sorting them for her and leaving her only those that needed her personal attention; Rikke also was quite efficient at dealing with visitors before they ever got to Bryn, though to be fair the visitors had been few so far, most people too intimidated by the Dragonborn to risk irritating her by wasting her time. She had resolved some land disputes that the Jarls hadn't been able to settle, and she had entertained a trio of diplomats from High Rock a week ago, the other province eager to resume trade with Skyrim. That visit had been somewhat interesting, and she hoped productive, though she had found the Bretons' overly-refined mannerisms slightly annoying. Well, they had no doubt considered her a barbarian, no matter who had raised her. She had thought about sending letters of introduction and offers of the discussion of trade to Hammerfell and the remains of Morrowind, however Rikke had counseled waiting until she spoke with the Emperor, which Ulfric had reluctantly agreed was the best course of action.

The only break in the tedium had been a couple long weekends in Winterhold for more magical training, and a small side trip to visit Septimus Signus' outpost, north of Winterhold, to return the essence extractor. Bryn had been carrying around the gruesome device for collecting Elven blood for some time, debating what to do with it, and had finally figured she might as well get rid of it. She had told Ralof and Hadvar to wait outside, and after the horror of what had occurred inside she was glad she had. The poor crazy old man was nothing but a pile of dust now, thanks to Hermaeus Mora, and Bryn's head was stuffed with a great many things that she really wished she could take back. Useful things, to be sure, but nothing she was going to tell anyone about. She had sold the nasty book to Urag and hoped it never came up again. She also hoped that Hermaeus Mora had gotten the message that she was not in the least interested in his patronage.

Ulfric let go of her hand once she was on the dock, and he reminded her in a murmur, "You will walk two steps ahead of me."

"Yes darling," she agreed, trying not to sigh. Her husband's first visit to the city of Solitude since Torygg's death two years ago was causing him a fair amount of anxiety, mostly due to his fears that his appearing here at her side would rile the folk that up to now had viewed her favorably. He feared nothing for himself. Bryn wasn't entirely sure what she would do if the citizens started harassing her husband, though she doubted they would with her present. Some in Solitude considered Ulfric a hero, minority that they were. Elisif wasn't about to be out walking the streets, where she surely would cause a scene. She had again refused to meet with Bryn the last time the Queen had come to Solitude, not long after she had defeated Harkon; Bryn had gotten fed up and had commanded her presence, the first time she had ever done such a thing, and when the sullen girl had appeared Bryn had let her know quite clearly that her behavior was childish and unbecoming of a Jarl and that no doubt Tullius found her a terrible disappointment. It had been stated harshly, but Bryn had no patience for the girl's continued grudge. It wasn't as if Bryn had ever wronged Elisif. If Elisif kept it up she would find herself replaced by her steward. If Falk wasn't already carrying on a not-so-secret affair with Bryling it would be a tidy solution for him to just marry Elisif and run the hold openly.

Galmar scanned the cliffs above the harbor, seeing them lined with citizens and soldiers, and he growled, "Damn, I don't like this, Ulfric." His Jarl had tried leaving him behind again and he had refused. He was his Jarl's housecarl and by Talos he was going to do his job. The two Queen's Guards were along and wouldn't allow anything to happen to Ulfric, nor would Rikke, right behind her lady in full steel plate armor, but crowds could turn all too easily. Even Galmar had been convinced to give up his bear armor and wear steel plate instead, not about to antagonize anyone with a Stormcloak officer's uniform. He was changing back into it the moment they got home though.

"There will be no mob today, Galmar," Bryn stated.

"I'm more concerned about a knife or arrow in the back."

"If it happens I will be there to deal with it."

Galmar nodded and said curtly, "Aye, my lady." The High Queen would make the perpetrator wish he or she had never been born, but still, Galmar wanted to avoid it in the first place. This was Elisif's city, if not as devoted a city as it once was. The girl hadn't lived up to her promise, which in Galmar's mind had been little to begin with. Falk Firebeard was the one who truly ruled here, and everyone knew it; Tullius had distanced himself from Elisif after her insane behavior at the Moot, and rumor had it that he might return to Cyrodiil with the bulk of his troops after the Emperor left Skyrim. He had only come to Skyrim to begin with to quell Ulfric's rebellion, and Bryn's reign seemed to be quiet and stable so far. She never did end up having to flush out and disperse the lingering groups of Stormcloak soldiers; the commanders had spread out on their own and had made it clear to them that they would be considered bandits if they didn't go home and the Dragonborn herself would deal with them, and that had been enough to get through to most of them. The few that hadn't complied had probably fallen in with bandit groups and were as good as dead.

The few East Empire Company workers at the dock bowed as Bryn passed. Vittoria Vici was nowhere to be seen, no doubt up in the Emperor's Tower visiting her cousin Titus Mede II. Bryn was fairly nervous about the meeting, afraid she was going to embarrass Skyrim in some way. She had gotten used to the somewhat rough, informal ways of Nords but her Altmeri manners had never entirely left her, and she hoped they would come in useful tomorrow when she dined with the Emperor. It was going to be an awkward meeting no matter what, since Ulfric was going to be there, the invitation extended to 'the High Queen's consort', and Tullius would be there as well. No, Ulfric was not at all looking forward to sitting down to eat at the same table as two of the men he still blamed for a great many things, but he hadn't tried to get out of it, or the visit to Solitude, and had sworn he would be on his best behavior, something Bryn would never ask and that he had volunteered.

Their group of six made their way up the hill and to the gates of Solitude without incident, and while a great number of whispers and mutters were heard amongst the cheers for the Queen, no one shouted at Ulfric or threw anything at him, which Bryn was grateful for. She honestly wasn't sure how she would have dealt with such a thing. The people had every right to how they felt about Ulfric. Even he accepted that. Galmar didn't, still, but he followed where Ulfric led. Ulfric was doing everything he could during this trip to avoid any appearance of leading Bryn, hence his insistence that she walk before him. She didn't like her husband following at her heels like a war bride, but if he was fine with it then she wasn't going to argue it.

When they reached Proudspire Manor, they found a flustered Jordis standing in the living room. Bryn greeted her with an embrace then asked, "What's wrong?"

"My lady, ah…" The housecarl licked her lips then cleared her throat as Ulfric entered the house. At least she had been expecting that. "Jarl Ulfric," she said with a deep bow. "I am honored to welcome you to Proudspire Manor, my lord."

"The honor is mine," he replied. He looked around the house and nodded in approval, thinking the young woman would relax, but clearly he wasn't the problem. "This is a splendid home, Brynhilde," he said to his wife. It was fit for a noble, a decent size and well-appointed, but comfortable.

"Yes, I've always been very comfortable here," Bryn replied. It wasn't quite a lie; the house itself was fine, if a bit awkward in layout. It was being in Elisif's city that grated on her somewhat. She had been warmly welcomed here until it became apparent that she might become High Queen, and then some folk had become stilted and stand-offish around her, if always polite. She didn't have that problem anywhere else, and folk in Whiterun treated her nearly the same as they always had. She wondered when she would have the opportunity to visit there again, and honestly couldn't say when she would. She still missed Vilkas a great deal, every day, but her duties kept her busy, as did the continuing work on Windhelm and her plans to build homes in the remaining holds where she didn't have one. She had the sneaking suspicion that Ulfric planned to give her Hjerim for her twenty-ninth birthday next month but had let him have his surprise so as not to ruin it for him. She could definitely use the house to host visitors, with space nearly non-existent in the palace. She wasn't sure how Jorleif's people were going to get the bloody mess in that house cleaned up, but she had faith in the steward.

Jordis turned her attention back to Bryn and said with concern, "My lady, visitors came last night. Imperial visitors. I tried to turn them away but they said they came on behalf of the Emperor. They stayed here and didn't go into the rest of the house, but…well, look."

Her housecarl took her arm and led her around the corner to a rarely-used area, and Bryn's breath caught as she took in what were obviously gifts. Her eyes were drawn immediately to the large stone tub by the window, and she felt tears prick at her eyes as she slowly knelt in front of it. It was filled with fresh water, and at the center floated a sacred lotus plant, graced with one perfect white flower and several unopened buds. She leaned forward and buried her nose in it, the scent not strong but absolutely heavenly, like nothing else on Nirn. The smell of her childhood. She had spent many a lazy afternoon staring into the decorative pools in the Imperial City, watching the tiny fish dart about and smelling the lotuses.

Ulfric's jaw clenched as he fought not to get angry, or at least not angry enough to embarrass his wife, knowing damn well where the plant had come from and what it must have taken to get it here alive on a ship. There were several boxes that contained gods knew what, and if there was any jewelry or other expensive items in there he was going to say something to the Emperor and manners be damned. Bryn had paid Skyrim's tribute out of her own coin and- A sharp nudge from Galmar broke him out of his increasingly aggravated thoughts, and he went to his wife, kneeling by her. He caught the faint perfume of the lily and it made him want to gag, his memories of the Imperial City not pleasant at all. He put his hand on Bryn's back, seeing her straighten up with tears in her eyes. He quietly prompted, "Why do you think he did this?"

"There could be many reasons, only some of which I appreciate," she answered in kind. She felt him relax at that. Well, she wasn't as naive as she had once been. A year ago she would have been charmed by the gesture; now all she could wonder was if it was meant to throw her off kilter. She decided to believe for now that it had been meant to gain her favor, one of the more palatable reasons. She sighed and ran her fingers over the fleshy white petals, each perfectly shaped, and caught a fresh burst of fragrance. There was a pot under the water that the lotus was rooted in, and she hoped that it lived, while fearing it wouldn't. It was a warm-weather plant, and it might not get enough light from the window here to survive. Well, it was the gesture that counted, whatever that gesture meant.

Jordis touched Bryn's shoulder to get her attention then held out a small wooden box to her as she said in an uneasy tone, "My lady, the men insisted you get this first."

Bryn took the box, and she pried the lid open then her eyes widened in surprise as she stood. Ulfric stood with her, and when he looked inside the box he frowned then wrinkled his nose, irritated all over again. "Strawberries," he said flatly. Big, fat, juicy, exotic strawberries that could only grow in warm lands. Alpine strawberries grew in some places here in Skyrim, but the animals nearly always got to them first, and they were tiny and tart.

"I love strawberries," she murmured. She couldn't imagine how they had made it here unspoiled. "My aunt…she would make me a bowl of strawberries and cream, when my uncle and cousin were out. As a treat, when I had been good." She took one out, watching the light glisten on the tender red flesh of the fruit, then she brought the box up to her nose and breathed deeply. It smelled like summer in Cyrodiil. She moved to pop it in her mouth then Jordis made a sound of alarm and stopped her.

"My lady, what if it's poisoned?" she asked with worry.

Frowning, Bryn asked, "What would the point of that be?" She couldn't say any more than that without giving away that Titus Mede II had wanted her to be High Queen. Might want her to become Empress. She went on, "Even if it was poisoned, it won't kill me, Jordis, but thank you for your concern. I've spent so long mixing potions and working with poisons that they don't do me much harm anymore." The housecarl removed her hand and Bryn put the strawberry in her mouth, closing her eyes as she moaned softly in delight. It was so soft, so sweet. Perfect. The only thing more perfect would be if it was floating in a spoonful of thick cream. She swallowed and sighed happily, opening her eyes, seeing the others all watching her with concern, except for Rikke. She offered the box and everyone shook their heads. Well, all the more for her then.

Rikke stated, "I would, my Queen, but I'm allergic. I'd be covered in hives within minutes." She decided to take the situation in hand and went to Bryn. "Let's open the rest of the boxes, my lady. What do you want to bet they're all things that can only be found in Cyrodiil?"

"Yes, you're probably right," she said in resignation. "I wonder if his people spoke to my aunt or grandmother?" The way Rikke's contacts had.

"I wouldn't put it past them, my lady. In fact they would have been fools not to do so." She opened another box while Bryn greedily ate one berry after another, and a wonderful citrus smell rose out of the box a moment later.

"Oranges!" Bryn said in delight. A good dozen oranges, carefully packed in straw, and there was no way she could eat them all. "All right, you're all going to help me eat these, at least." She picked up one and threw it to Hadvar, who grinned and took out a small utility knife to start peeling it, the easy way he did it telling her he had eaten them many a time in the south while in the Legion. She held one out to her husband and he folded his arms.

"No," Ulfric stated, "I will not." Bryn shrugged and tossed one to Ralof who looked at it in confusion then took out his knife and followed Hadvar's lead. The Jarl went on in an irritated tone, "He is not one for subtlety, is he. All these things that are commonplace in Cyrodiil yet never seen up here. Things from your childhood. Perhaps he has your aunt stashed somewhere."

"None of these boxes are big enough. I'd be happy to find my cousin's head in one though." Her husband wasn't amused. "Really darling, do you think some fruit and a plant are going to make me want to move to the Imperial City? I'm sure that all these things are meant to do is make me view his intentions favorably. It's no different than the dagger I made him. A simple gift. At least I made the dagger myself. He just had some flunkies do all this." Ulfric grumbled but said nothing more, and when Bryn held an orange out to him again he stared at her for a moment then took it, unable to resist, and when she held another out to Rikke she shook her head in regret.

"Those too, my lady," Rikke stated unhappily. Pears would have made her happy though. She had loved pears while stationed in the south. Bryn tossed an orange to Galmar who glanced at Ulfric, and when he saw Ulfric eating his he tore into his own with gusto. One small box was left, and Bryn set aside the now-empty strawberry box to take this one from Rikke. It was small but had some heft to it.

Bryn pried open the box to find it full of wool batting, protecting something. She carefully pulled it away then her mouth went round with amazement as she saw the precious thing inside. She took it out tenderly then held it by the base, stunned speechless. It was a dragon carved of mammoth ivory, stylized and smooth-skinned but for two horns, a beautiful, creamy white color, with eyes of pure gold, and a gold crown circled its head. It sat with one foreclaw raised, its tail wrapped around its feet, wings slightly raised from its back, lovely but commanding. Majestic. It wasn't a proper dragon, with its extra front legs, but it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She could truly say without a doubt that she had never beheld anything more gorgeous in her entire life, other than the sight of her _zeymahhe_ gathered at the peak of the Throat of the World.

"Perfect," Ulfric muttered angrily. Even as aggravated as he was, he could see the thing was priceless, one of a kind. A gift fit for an Empress. The dragon _was_ the Empress, because it was obvious that the dragon was meant to represent Bryn. Bryn was completely enchanted by the gift, as anyone would be. If Ulfric had ever found such a thing he would have paid any price to have it for his wife. Unlike the fruit and lotus, this was not a simple gift. This was outrageously valuable, something that had no doubt taken weeks if not months to carve, full of meaning, something for Bryn to ponder until the meeting tomorrow. Ulfric hated the Emperor for it. The only comfort he could take from it all was that the Elder Scrolls had stolen Titus Mede II's thunder and nothing much that the Emperor could say would come as a shock. At least Ulfric hoped so.

Ulfric simmered all through dinner, simmered as he watched Rikke braid Bryn's long, pale blond hair, still wet from the bath, into rows so that by dinner tomorrow it could be taken down and would lay over her shoulders in sunny waves, something he had seen only once, at their wedding. Bryn joined him on the balcony to watch the sun set over the sea, feeling her head and wincing at the tightness of it, and he muttered, "You go to too much effort for someone who does not deserve it."

"Rikke tells me that I often neglect one of my most potent weapons," she replied as she leaned on the stone wall next to him.

"It is much more potent than you realize," he said with irritated concern. "Do not charm the man too much, or you will find him pursuing you, and he will not care that you are married, or even that you are married to me." The Emperor was widely known to be a womanizer, of women both single and not. And of course the man would feel Ulfric owed him, for pardoning him. All Ulfric could hope was that Titus Mede would find her too intimidating to dream of bedding. Bryn would never agree to it, but Mede could make her life miserable if she didn't.

"I care, and it will get him nowhere. I don't plan on charming him. I'll be wearing full dragonscale armor and both swords. He isn't a Nord. Colovians like more feminine women."

Dismayed, Ulfric said, "You are quite feminine. There are different kinds of femininity. Do not measure yourself against the whiny milk drinker that inhabits the Blue Palace." Which was all too close to here. He knew damn well that part of his foul mood was simply being here, close to the scene of his greatest crime, so to speak. He deeply disliked being in Solitude, but there was no way in hell his wife was going in front of the Emperor without him at her side. The invitation had made it clear he was there only as Prince Consort, nothing more, and he would do his best to play the part of the supportive, properly chastened spouse. Which he was, to some extent, but only some.

"Whenever I do she comes up short, believe me, dearest." He huffed and she leaned against him, murmuring, "You are, you know. Dearest."

"Hm. So I am." He pulled her against him and put his arms around her waist as she put hers around his shoulders. He could hear the faint sound of singing and drums from the Bards College next door, and the sound of the sea in the distance, and he tried to let it soothe him. Yes, he did believe that his wife held him dearest to her. She felt like a true wife to him now, with all the time they had spent together the last two months and her conscious decision to put him first. He still occasionally caught her staring into nothingness, daydreaming, but the moments were few. She seemed content in Windhelm, and the folk of Windhelm loved her dearly, and the Dunmer worshiped the ground she walked on, or so he had heard. He still wasn't going to let them into his Palace, and Bryn had been careful not to ask. Ulfric placed a lingering kiss on her lips, then murmured against them, "Is your cycle over yet?" She shook her head unhappily. Disappointed, he said, "Ah, well."

"You would be the first to know, beloved." She leaned her forehead against his and whispered, "I wish you would—"

"No."

"All right." She left the matter alone, for now, and he moved behind her to put his arms around her waist and lean his head against hers. He still wouldn't let her pleasure him, giving the excuse that if she couldn't enjoy it then he wouldn't either, but she wasn't buying it. She wished they had time to go to Markarth together, so that he could pray to Dibella with her. There was a Shrine to Dibella here, in the Temple of the Divines, but no priestess dedicated to her worship. When Bryn had passed through Markarth last she had unburdened herself to Hamal, the Mother Priestess there, and the older woman had been utterly horrified by what Bryn had told her; she had known that Ulfric was a prisoner of war long ago, but she hadn't known of the extent of the torture and abuse he had been put through. Hamal had prayed on the matter overnight and had done some research in the temple's archives, and when Bryn had come back the next day she had advised extreme patience and gentle persistence, to always let him feel like he had control over the act and never force the issue or make him feel like less of a man for being afraid. Healing such trauma in men was often harder than it was in a woman, and that it had happened to Ulfric as a grown man was worse for him in some ways than if it had happened when he was a child, which was what Hamal usually encountered, though thankfully rarely. She had promised to craft, enchant and bless a special Amulet of Dibella for her, but Bryn hadn't seen it arrive yet. She hoped when she did that Ulfric would cooperate with her. The experience in Riften had shaken him and he had dug in again, and she couldn't help him if he didn't meet her halfway.

Bryn sighed as Ulfric tightened his hold on her as they watched the sun start dipping down to the horizon, and she suddenly realized that asking him to let her pleasure him tonight had been a mistake. He was unhappy about being here in Solitude, angry, not at all pleased about seeing the Emperor, which had to be bringing back all kinds of unpleasant, helpless feelings from the past. She softly ventured, "I'm sorry that you had to come here, darling."

"It is my duty," he grumbled, "as it is yours."

"It isn't an unpleasant one for me. I'm curious about the Emperor, what he's like. I want to know what he intends to do about the Dominion. I want him to know what I intend to do about it, with or without his cooperation."

He snorted a bitter laugh then sighed and nuzzled her. _"Rekdovahi."_

"_Geh._ I will have him know what he's dealing with. I will leave no confusion in that regard." She rubbed his arms and added, "I should demand that he allow you to personally tear up the White-Gold Concordat, in front of the Elder Council and the Aldmeri ambassador."

"That would be…ah, don't tease me."

As the sun sank lower and touched the surface of the sea she stated, "I think I'd like to be there when the heads get dumped out."

"As would I." Ulfric made a sound of frustration and muttered, "Talos help me, I don't think I will be able to look the man in the eye without him seeing my hatred."

"Let him see it. You aren't an extension of me. You're entitled to your feelings. They're justified." She rubbed his arms and warned, "I wouldn't be surprised if he brings it up, darling. Please be prepared for that. He doesn't know everything you went through." He grumbled and she felt a slight shudder from him. She sighed, "I wish I could spare you this, or take some of it from—"

"No! Leave it alone!" Bryn stiffened at his harshness, and he pleaded in a whisper, "Leave it alone, Brynhilde, please. I refuse to pick at my wounds in this place. I will not appear weak before the one who left me to rot for a year in that hellhole, or before Tullius. You cannot imagine…"

When he didn't continue she did for him, gently prompting, "Imagine what?"

"What it felt like to be bound and gagged again. In that wagon. After Darkwater Crossing. That feeling of…utter helplessness. Impotence. It will come back to me again seeing them in front of me."

"Maybe, but what if it does? I will be there with you."

"You will be there being inspected like a new toy in front of me. I will have to see the greed in the Emperor's eyes as he appraises you."

"No, Tullius already did that for him." He made a sound of offense and she turned in his arms to face him, though it meant she would miss seeing the sun sink below the horizon. She put her hands on his bearded cheeks, his face colored red by the setting sun, fitting his mood. "Don't get angry and upset for my sake, _ahmuli._ I can't be used except in ways that I choose to be. I begged Tullius to make use of me, before he sent me after Elenwen. I told him that he and the Emperor would be fools to let my abilities go to waste. He agreed, and said that the Emperor wanted me on the throne and would pardon you. Pardoning you was the Emperor's idea, not mine, and I doubt it was a gift to me because we were sleeping together. It was because of you. What did you tell me, when I asked you to come to the peace conference? That Tullius had thrown everything he had at you and you still controlled half of Skyrim. The Emperor and Tullius aren't about to degrade or embarrass anyone on purpose tomorrow, let alone the two of us. It would be stupid, and neither of them are stupid." Ulfric grunted, some of his anger subsiding. "If you see the Emperor's eyes appraising me, it will be because I'm Dragonborn."

"A pretty female Dragonborn," he said in a sullen tone. "Something novel and exotic. He will want to call you to the Imperial City before your time, simply to have you around to…to gawk at."

"I'm used to getting gawked at, and unless the war is starting I have no reason to go to the Imperial City. I'm needed here. This is my country."

"You were born in Cyrodiil. He was trying to remind you of that."

"It doesn't matter where I was first born. I was really born here, in Skyrim."

Ulfric let out the last of his anger and tension as he sighed, "Yes. Yes you were, precious." The last of the sun disappeared and he pulled her tight against him, kissing her, and the feel of her body against him couldn't help but rouse him. She felt his arousal between them and reached down to stroke him as she began lightly kissing and nibbling at his neck, and he whispered, "Not out here."

"It's naughty, isn't it." He caught her wrist and pulled her hand away, and she had to stifle a surge of irritation that she knew was unwarranted. She had to be patient. She _knew_ she had to be, and yet it was so hard at times. She simply couldn't relate to how he felt, no matter how she tried, couldn't help being frustrated and even hurt by his refusal. Vilkas would have been thrilled to- No, she couldn't go there. That was completely unfair. Still, how she longed for those days, when it was always easy, when they never thought about it and just fell into each other without a care. Vilkas had always been ready, always eager, and she had always been satisfied, except for his refusal to marry her. And now she was married but her sex life was occasionally frustrating. It was always something.

Ulfric led her inside, where the others were either already in bed or getting ready, and he watched his wife warily as she put on her nightgown in tense movements, avoiding his eyes. He tried to ignore it, somewhat annoyed that she had even tried to start something that couldn't go anywhere, and in a place they could get caught at that. He sat down on the edge of the bed and watched her blow out the candles in the room then get into bed and lie there silently, her back to him, and it was all he could do not to say something. Well he'd be damned if he did.

An hour later he regretted that course of action when he still couldn't sleep, and when he felt Bryn get out of bed and silently leave the room, closing the door behind her, he knew he had to say something, even if it caused an argument. He couldn't have tension between them tomorrow. He waited another half an hour for her to come back, and when she didn't he hauled himself out of bed and went looking for her. She wasn't at the table outside the bedroom, or in the living area or kitchen, where he saw Hadvar and Ralof sleeping on cots in front of the banked fire. He went down to the basement, where he knew Rikke and Galmar were sleeping in Jordis' room, the housecarl having taken the night off to sleep at the Winking Skeever, and he found Bryn at the enchanting desk, a glass shield before her and a large soul gem in her hand. He stayed silent and out of the way, though she most likely knew he was there. He studied the two mannequins in the room, one outfitted entirely in Daedric armor, the other in a suit of armor he had never seen the like of before. It was clunky-looking, not attractive, but it looked strong as hell, and he realized with a shock that it was entirely made of dragon bones.

The crack and ping of the soul gem disintegrating startled him and drew his attention back to Bryn, who made a breathless sound and rubbed her eyes, swaying slightly, and he steeled himself and went to her, half expecting her to shrug him off. She was trembling, and he asked with worry, "Are you all right?"

"Just tired," she whispered. "Double enchanting is…extremely draining." She had hoped that enchanting a few items would make her tired enough to sleep. Ulfric tentatively pulled on her to turn her around, and she dropped her hands and asked him in a pain-filled tone, "Why do you still not trust me?"

"What?" he whispered in shock.

"You don't trust me. I've tried so hard to be patient, and still you treat me like the enemy."

"Bullshit," he protested in a rough voice. "Like hell I do!"

"You won't talk about it. You won't work with me on it. I can't help you if you don't let me!"

He let his hands fall away and said, "Not here. Not now."

"Then when, and where?" Ulfric bit his lip, staring past her with a hurt expression. "Nearly two months. That's how long I've been waiting for you to give me some sign, and I haven't pushed you. I know what we did in Riften upset you, so I left it alone, and I've waited, and waited, and tonight you pulled me against you and started kissing and caressing me then have the _nerve_ to get aggravated when I respond to it?" He didn't answer. She made a sound of frustration and went on, "I don't know what to do, Ulfric. If you didn't get aroused I wouldn't push, but you do—"

"I have no control over that!"

The hiss in his voice and the look on his face stopped her from getting any more upset, since he clearly was. "I know that," she stated gently, "and there's nothing wrong with it. That's how it's supposed to be."

"Not always."

"Yes it is, between you and me. I'm talking about you and me, Ulfric." He took a deep breath then shook his head and moved to turn away then stopped himself. "Please," she begged. "If you don't want to talk here, fine, we'll wait until we get home. But at least promise me that you will. It hurts every time I try and you reject me. You may not think that's what you're doing, but you are. It makes me feel as if you don't trust me."

"It has nothing to do with that. I…can't. I don't…I can't drag you into it."

"I'm already into it. I came into it willingly when I agreed to marry you. I was dragged into it when I had to listen to Elenwen's filth—" She blinked in surprise when he clamped a hand over her mouth, a look of panic in his eyes.

"No," he whispered shakily. "No." Bryn gazed at him sadly, and he took his hand away then gently grabbed her by the arm and led her upstairs, back into the bedroom, where he shut and locked the door. He let go of her and licked his lips as he stared at her, and she stared back with an expression of kind neutrality, waiting. Well then, if she said she could take it, they would see about that. "When I got free…" He laughed bitterly. "When they let me go. That is what they did, they _let_ me go. When I returned to the first Legion outpost I could find, I learned that my commanding officer, Legate Svendl, was long dead. The Legate in charge of the camp, Justinia, had me healed then assigned me a new command. I told her I wanted out, that I couldn't do it, that I was broken. I tried to tell her what they had done to me, and the bitch told me to 'man up' and stop crying like some delicate maiden. She told me if I couldn't perform my duties that I would find myself back in prison, an Imperial one this time, as a deserter. She died at Red Ring, and good riddance." Bryn looked pained and angry but said nothing, her eyes glistening. "When I found Galmar again, near the end of the war…he demanded that I tell him everything, and…I couldn't. The words wouldn't come out. I knew he would weep for me, more than he already did. I knew Rikke would have, if I had known where she was. I couldn't let anyone weep for me, or I would weep myself, and I didn't dare. Better that I stay angry, always angry. Anger was strength."

Bryn quietly stated, "It is a brittle strength, beloved."

"Yes, I realize that, now, but at the time, up until you…it held me together. It was always easier to turn the anger on others, on whatever target or cause I could find. It was easier than turning it on myself."

She made a sound of grief and reached for him but he shook his head. "Why would you turn it on yourself? You were blameless in what happened to you."

"Yes, but…" Ulfric trailed off, feeling his face reddening. When Bryn reached for him again he allowed it, and he gazed into her eyes, full of love and compassion for him, as if Mara herself was the one petting his hair and holding his hand. He held it tightly, feeling her wedding ring digging into his skin, warm and solid between them, and he brought it up to his mouth and whispered against it, "But…what if…what does it mean if…at times…" He grimaced and closed his eyes. "When it was the women, I told myself that of course it felt good, even if it was against my will, but the men…that, _that_ was true rape. It was a violation of my personal integrity, a defilement, and yet…and yet at times…" He felt his wife squeeze his hands. "I never knew which it was going to be, a man or a woman, gentle or rough, and I couldn't…I couldn't help enjoying it at times, couldn't help having an orgasm even when it hurt, and I despised myself afterwards for it. I hated myself for being nothing better than an animal, and _she_ was always there, watching, making cold, snide comments in that despicable voice of hers. By time I got loose I started to believe what she said, that I was little more than a beast."

"No," Bryn whispered, in tears. "Oh honey, tell me you don't really believe that."

"Yes, sometimes I still do." He sighed heavily. "I couldn't stand the thought of being with anyone for close to three years after I came home. The first time afterwards I vomited. I told her I was drunk. Some girl my father pushed at me, wanting me to marry before he got any older, wanting grandchildren to spoil, and Galmar found me weeping in my room, and he wouldn't leave until I told him why, and I couldn't get all the words out, but he figured it out. I felt like a weak, pathetic child, not a grown man. I think…he must have said something to Father, because he never mentioned me taking a woman or getting married ever again. Father treated me like I was fragile after that, and it only made me angrier. The healers say his heart gave out, when he died, while I was in prison after Markarth, and all I can imagine is that he died of a broken heart. Because of me. Worrying for me. Worrying that it was happening to me again." When Ulfric opened his eyes Bryn was staring at him with tears running down her cheeks, but she looked as angry as she did sorrowful. It helped. He should have known that she wouldn't crumble to hear all this. He should have trusted her more, trusted that he wouldn't have to comfort her when he was the one who so desperately needed it.

"Never blame yourself," she said in offense. "Yancarro would hold me down and tickle me until I screamed, until I got too big for him to overpower me. Mer aren't ticklish, and he thought it was hilarious that he could make me laugh from something I hated, but I never blamed myself for laughing. It was an involuntary response. You're not a beast or an animal for having a response forced out of you. It makes you human." She stroked his cheek, running her fingers along the scars then his beard, so rich and thick, a darker blond than his hair. "I would never think less of you. I wish you had told me all this sooner." She had known that control was at the root of the problem, but she hadn't imagined that he still felt such self-loathing over something no one could help.

"I wanted to protect you. You're my wife." Bryn sighed and shook her head slightly; it went without saying that she didn't need protecting. He knew that. It was why he had married her, why he had let himself love her. He kissed her hand, still cradled between his, and she silently stroked his face then ran her fingers back through his loose hair. He felt the strength in her hand, and though an occasional fresh tear ran down her cheek, still, she didn't collapse. He closed his eyes again, letting her soothe him, and he found that he wasn't as upset as he had thought he would be to finally tell her, tell someone, everything. If anything he felt drained, as if a boil had been lanced, but he didn't feel angry, and he didn't feel like weeping, he just felt…drained. He felt her move and a moment later her lips were against his forehead, firm but tender. He whispered, "You are truly an Agent of Mara and Dibella, my treasure. You…you simply have no idea. How I love you."

"Of course I do."

"No, you do not." He opened his eyes and let go of her hand to take her face in his hands. "If I were to lose you…I think I would simply cease to exist. Vilkas let you go, but I…I would chase you to the ends of the world if you left me, and if you died, I would be right behind you, I swear it, Brynhilde." He kissed her hard before she could react to his words, tasting salt, but she returned his kisses eagerly, throwing her arms around his neck and her body against his so forcefully that it nearly slammed him back into the door. _"Lokali,"_ he whispered against her mouth. _"Saviiki."_ Even after what she had heard, she treated him like a man, like an equal, and it was a relief.

"_Kodaavi…"_

Ulfric turned them around to press her against the door. _"Geh, hin kodaav, hin ahmul."_ How he wanted her right now, wanted the comfort of her body against his, but she was bleeding, and that was a line he would never cross. He felt her hand on him, her touch firm and insistent. He was so used to having her whenever he wanted, after the last seven weeks of being constantly together, that the last few days of being unable to make love to her had left him needy, which he couldn't help finding laughable considering he had spent most of the last thirty years celibate.

When he felt her tugging at the string of his pants he didn't resist, though he felt a twinge of anxiety, but the feel of her bare hand along his length quickly banished it, or at least enough to let her continue. She hesitated and he nodded, and when she lowered herself to her knees she took one of his hands with her. He felt surprised relief as she held his hand while she took him in her mouth, and as she gently but firmly worked at him she placed his hand on the back of her head, keeping hold of his wrist. This he could tolerate, knowing he still had some control of it. He leaned his other arm on the door and laid his forehead on it, watching her, reminding himself _this is my wife, this is my wife,_ doing something any thoughtful wife would do for her husband, then all coherent thought left him as the climax built and he pulled her head against him more quickly. It was over before he knew it, making him groan through gritted teeth and leaving him weak-kneed and sweating slightly. He let out a shaky breath but didn't feel the wrenching anxiety and grief that he had in Riften. Maybe it was because he was standing and she was kneeling before him, something that left him in some position of power, illusive though it was. Maybe it was also because he wasn't drunk. In hindsight that had been a definite mistake.

Bryn pulled away and swallowed quickly, trying not to make a face, then she leaned forward again and kissed along his softening length tenderly. She felt Ulfric begin to pet her braided hair, feeling only a slight trembling from him, but she didn't hear any sniffing. "Was that all right, darling?" she whispered.

"Yes. Yes it was." He heard a sound of relief from her as she continued placing sweet kisses. This he could manage, and it made him wish he had done this sooner, as happy as it had made his wife, and he had to admit that it had felt marvelous. Bryn pulled up his underclothes and pants as she stood and he kissed her deeply, tasting a bitterness that confused him for a moment until he realized what it was, and it sent fresh twinges of arousal through him along with a faint anxiety that he ignored. He could ignore it, and one day he would find that it was simply no longer there.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry if that was hard for anyone to read, but I felt I had to be true to what was hinted at in previous chapters. That sort of trauma in men is something that isn't taken as seriously as it should be. Having only sons I'm well aware that males can be every bit as sensitive as females and feel things just as deeply, if not always in the way we do.**

**Thank you again everyone for reading. Julie5 and LivelyWhite, thanks so much for the kind guest reviews!**


	53. Chapter 53

_Be what you are,_ Bryn mentally reminded herself in Ulfric's voice as their small group approached the Emperor's Tower. The Queen's Guards and Galmar would remain just inside the door, but Rikke was accompanying them all the way into the hall for Bryn's first meeting with Titus Mede II, in her capacity as Bryn's chamberlain and main advisor. The streets were lined with city folk, and the courtyard packed with both Imperial soldiers and Haafingar guards. The guards shouted, "Hail Queen Brynhilde! Hail Dragonborn!" Even some of the Imperial soldiers joined in hailing the Dragonborn, and they weren't all Nord.

Bryn made sure to wave and smile to those who cheered her, trying to do it with some measure of dignity and bearing and not look like a silly girl. She wasn't used to this measure of spectacle; even the Moot hadn't been anything like this. The Emperor had never visited Skyrim during his nearly forty-year reign, and that he was visiting now, expressly to meet the Dragonborn, had all of Skyrim talking. It had the entire Empire talking. It made Bryn nervous, something she was very unused to. It made her feel like she was on display. Well, so she was.

As they reached the guarded doors Ulfric murmured to her, _"Dahmaan…kah ahrk ahkrin, Dovahkiin."_ Pride and courage were things the Dragonborn should have in abundance in front of the man who had nearly destroyed them all and had brought Tiber Septim's Empire low.

"_Geh, ahmul,"_ she stated, then took a deep breath. She smiled at the others, who nodded back, unsmiling, Ralof looking especially uncomfortable with the whole thing, then she motioned for the door to be opened, hearing another cheer go up from the Nord soldiers and guards in the courtyard. She would be exactly who and what she was: Dragonborn and High Queen of Skyrim. Perhaps the Emperor was the most powerful man in the Empire, but she was the most powerful being in the known world, no matter what she had been when she left Cyrodiil.

She walked through the entry where Ralof, Hadvar and Galmar took up position, the housecarl looking extremely disgruntled, and she strode the short distance through the hall, Ulfric two steps behind her with Rikke. The Emperor sat up straight on the edge of his throne, his hands gripping the front of the arms. Bryn had never seen the man, but she wasn't all that impressed; he was small, and unremarkable, looking like nothing more than someone's favorite uncle, though his clothing was rich, adorned with the red diamond and black dragon of the Empire. When she swept back her fur cloak and performed an elaborate Altmeri bow then sank to one knee he arose from his seat. She could only assume her husband had bowed and knelt as well and couldn't spare the attention to worry about it. He had promised to pay Titus Mede II his due, whatever that meant. She had noticed Tullius standing on one side of the throne and Commander Maro on the other side; half a dozen Penitus Oculatus soldiers stood guard against the walls, and two young battlemages stood guard in the openings in the wall above the throne, one an Imperial woman and the other a Breton man. "Your Majesty," she stated, not bothering to control the _thu'um_ in her voice, "I welcome you to Skyrim. _Drem Yol Lok, Ulokuun se Taazokaan."_

"Ahhh," Mede breathed as he slowly came down the steps. "To think, in my lifetime…" He gestured to her with his hand and said eagerly, "Come, come child, to your feet." The girl rose and his breath caught as she lifted her chin and looked him in the eye, her own the color of pure gold, and in such a face. He hadn't expected her to be so…pretty. Lovely. She was a good six inches taller than him, as tall as a female High Elf, and the silken tresses that curled on her shoulders and framed her face were as fine and pale as an Altmer's as well. He could feel the hair on his entire body standing on end in her presence, the air nearly thrumming with the power she contained. He took in a deep breath then shook himself and smiled at her, and when a slow smile spread over her face he laughed and said to Ulfric in admiration, "Damn you, Stormcloak, you've ruined everything." Ulfric didn't answer, and he turned his attention to the other man, who stared back with cold hatred in his eyes, not bothering to hide it. "Ah, yes. There are…issues, aren't there. Be assured I do not blame you for it. It's rather refreshing, really. I'm used to people wanting to slit my throat, but I so rarely get to actually _see_ it." Ulfric's lips pursed and he said nothing, and Mede waved him off, shaking his head. "Please, forgive me, I'm…completely flustered by this…_being._ A true Dragonborn! A Dragonborn woman at that, and such a… Well, I'm…I hardly know what to say."

Bryn moderated her voice and inclined her head, saying, "I'm flattered, Your Majesty."

"Please, you needn't be. You've done well. Quite, quite well, for yourself and Skyrim, and in the end, the Empire. I only wish you had waited to wed. This all would have been so much tidier." Her expression went cool at that, understanding what he was getting at, and he heard a strangled growl from the Jarl behind her. He soothed, "Now now, it would have been a political marriage, my dear, nothing more. I could have hoped for it to be more, but, well, look at me, and look at you. You're breathtaking, but the logistics of the thing…hopeless." Bryn laughed at that, a giggle that she quickly smothered with a gloved hand, her cheeks pink, and he laughed in turn and looked behind him at Tullius. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Tullius. And you, Maro. You two never said a word to me about how enchanting she is."

Tullius stated with a completely straight face, "We must have caught her on her bad days, Your Majesty."

Mede rolled his eyes and Bryn laughed again, and the Emperor sighed and moved to take Bryn's hand, seeing his guards move slightly, and he saw her scan the room again then once again mentally dismiss them. "Yes," he murmured in a thoughtful tone, seeing those Divine eyes move back to him. "You know, Maro actually suggested to me that you and your people be disarmed before entering my presence. Good man, but really, it would be a rather poor sign of trust, and besides, how does one disarm someone who breathes fire and ice, or someone who can Shout you into a wall? Well, I suppose you could disable such a person, but it wouldn't be easy now, would it, and in your case probably impossible. So, show me. I haven't seen or heard the _thu'um_ since the war, from your oh-so-charming spouse here, and even then it was at a distance. Show me how the _thu'um_ would get you out of this situation, my dear."

Bryn frowned at him, the sudden change in his tone of voice making her uneasy, along with the intense, measuring quality of his dark-eyed gaze, all his charm suddenly gone. She had to remind herself that this was a man who had kept himself alive and the Empire somewhat together against all odds for nearly forty years, and who had been the consummate Imperial warrior for most of that time. Titus Mede II had personally fought on the field in every battle where he was present, coming through nearly unscathed. So he wanted a demonstration. All right then. She quietly stated, "I have no wish to harm anyone, Majesty."

"As long as it isn't permanent, there will be no harm. You may proceed."

Ulfric said in offense, "The Voice is not an act, to be used for entertainment. Your Majesty." The last was added with extreme reluctance, and no small amount of bitterness.

"I'm not asking to be entertained, Jarl Ulfric, and forgive my bluntness, but perhaps if you had been more a bit more willing to use the _thu'um_ on the battlefield you would not have—"

"_TIID KLO UL!"_

Mede gasped as the Shout rang in his skull like thunder and time slowed to the consistency of taffy. He felt the girl's hand slide out of his and he grasped after it, fruitlessly. Well, he supposed this was what he had asked for. He struggled to turn about as he watched the first three bodyguards fall in slow motion, the Dragonborn a blur, and he was only halfway turned as he heard the other three cry out and fall, and by time he was facing his throne and time snapped back to normal he found the needle-sharp point of a dagger in his throat, the girl's body hard and tense behind him. The six Penitus Oculatus soldiers were on the ground, groaning, and Maro and Tullius were moving for weapons that were no longer at their sides, surely an instinctive reaction since he had asked the Dragonborn to do this. "Well," he said in a strained voice, "I am certainly impressed, Queen Brynhilde." She grunted in response, and he could feel her practically vibrating like a drawn bowstring against him. He looked up at the two battlemages upstairs, all four hands alight with spells that had been charged but not cast. He raised his voice and asked in a curious tone, "Was there anything that could have been done?"

The Breton dispelled his magic and said in a tense voice, "Nay, Sire. I had thought to paralyze her, but the angle of the blade is such that it would have gone into your throat if she fell."

Mede looked at the Imperial mage, who shook her head, saying, "No, Your Majesty. Not that I can think of." She turned her dark gaze on Bryn, adding coldly, "But you can be sure I will ponder the situation, Sire."

"Oh, of course," he said dryly. The prick of the blade fell away from his neck and Bryn stepped back, raising her hand to cast a spell of grand healing on the fallen bodyguards, who hauled themselves to their feet, several of them glaring at her. "Now now, people," Mede said with a hint of irritation, "was I the one who asked for this, or wasn't I? I will have no grudge held against the Dragonborn for doing as I demanded. And I am most impressed, as I said, and quite sure that this was only a taste of what she can do." He turned and beamed at her and she stared back fearlessly. He motioned towards Tullius and Maro, asking her, "Why not disable them?"

She answered, "I know and like them, Your Majesty." She bowed and held the dagger out to the Emperor on the palms of her hands. "For you, Your Majesty. I intended this for you before the tremendously generous presents you had sent to my house, and now I wish I had done more."

"A gift? How thoughtful!" He laughed and took it, adding, "And an ironic one, really." He turned the weapon around in his hands, a perplexed look on his face. "I've never seen anything like it," he murmured. The metal was ebony, the pommel formed into the head of a dragon with blazing ruby eyes. The blade seemed organic, an odd tan color, warmer than metal.

"There is nothing else like it, Your Majesty. I crafted it myself, of dragon bone."

"Dragon bone," Mede breathed. "A real dragon!"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Your armor too, then? And the circlet you wear."

"Dragon scales and bone, Majesty. Crafted under the guidance of the great Master Smith Eorlund Gray-Mane, in the fires of the Skyforge of Whiterun." She gestured to the entry way. "My Guards carry dragon bone weapons that I crafted and enchanted myself. I didn't enchant your dagger, Majesty, but I would be pleased to perform the service while you are here, if you let me know which two enchantments you would like on it."

"Two enchantments!" scoffed the Breton mage. He heard a derisive snicker from the female mage next to him at the notion.

"Yes, two enchantments. I would be more than happy to provide a demonstration if you and your partner would like to watch, and if the two of you are skilled enough to understand what I'm doing."

Both mages stiffened in offense and the Emperor laughed in delight. "Yes, yes, Guillaume, I think that would be a marvelous idea," Mede stated. "You will arrive bright and early at Queen Brynhilde's house tomorrow morning. Octavia will stay here."

Ulfric added in aggravation, "And you will be properly respectful of the one who is Dragonborn and High Queen of the Nords, mage."

Guillaume drew himself up then bowed slightly to Bryn, saying with a touch of haughtiness, "I would not dream of disrespecting Her Majesty the High Queen of Skyrim."

"You had better. I do not think you people have a proper grasp of who and what you are dealing with."

Mede waved his hand and shook his head, saying, "Now now, Stormcloak. I for one am more than willing to understand Queen Brynhilde's capabilities. Both Tullius and Maro have impressed quite strongly on me, Tullius especially, how extremely capable the Dragonborn is. I would dearly love to see a live dragon. That must have been…ah, magnificent. A once in a lifetime event."

"One can always hope it was, Sire," Tullius stated. He stepped down from the dais and came forward to stand at the Emperor's right hand, where he bowed slightly to Bryn. "Queen Brynhilde."

"It's good to see you, General," she replied with a nod.

Mede continued, "Tullius described your ideas for fighting the Dominion, Ulfric's idea rather, and I must say that I'm intrigued. This 'storm call' Shout of yours…is it really that powerful?"

"Yes Majesty, it is. It is extremely deadly. I would demonstrate it for you, but it cannot tell friend from foe. It will strike anyone but me in the area that is in the open and on the ground."

"How many dragons still live, do you think?"

"I have no idea, Majesty. At least twenty is my best guess. Some have retreated to Skuldafn, to follow the Greybeards' Way of the Voice and reconcile themselves to behaving peacefully. There are some who refuse to follow anyone, and they've either gone their own way or I've killed them. Seven of my brothers including Odahviing acknowledge me as _Thur_, Overlord." There was the gruesome Durnehviir as well, but the sight of the creature absolutely appalled her. As much as she pitied the decrepit beast, he had put himself into his current situation.

"Only seven? Is that enough?"

Bryn laughed quietly then stated, "I will win the war for you with those seven dragons, Emperor. I will not drive back the Aldmeri Dominion; I will utterly obliterate them. Elves will not dare to make war on Man again. _Zu'u los Qahnaarin. Zu'u los Kroniid. Zu'u los nahkriin se Strundu'ul."_

"The dragon tongue!" Mede whispered eagerly. "What does it mean?"

Ulfric translated, "I am the Vanquisher. I am the Conqueror. I am Stormcrown's vengeance."

Mede stared into Bryn's eyes, and she gazed back unblinkingly. "Talos' vengeance," he murmured in a halting tone. He hadn't missed the gleaming gold Amulet of Talos she wore, or the dark one Ulfric wore, or the one the silent, handsome woman behind them wore. Well, it wasn't as if he didn't have his own stashed away. He folded his arms and tapped his finger on his chin, quietly saying, "Tullius thinks we can do this. But then he thought he could stop you, Stormcloak, and we both know he couldn't have. Not without the Dragonborn fighting for him."

"The Dragonborn stopped me, in her own way. My…conscience stopped me. If not for her, and the truths she made me see, I would have won the war," he stated without vanity. "I would have won because more and more Nord families would have had loved ones dragged away in the night by the Thalmor and would have rallied to my banner because of it. In the end, Skyrim would have been mine, and I would have been High King. And for a time, perhaps, we could have held off our enemies, but we would not have been able to fight the Elves, the Empire _and_ the dragons. Eventually Skyrim would fall. Everything would fall."

"Yes," Mede said thoughtfully. "Yes, everything and everyone would fall. Eventually, even the Dominion, with Alduin involved. The bringer of the end times, as foretold in the Elder Scrolls. One must wonder: would the Aldmeri Dominion have even tried to fight Alduin? Or would they have welcomed what his return heralded? Would they have rejoiced at the chance to finally escape this mortal coil, this endless cycle of death and rebirth? Mortality is very messy. We come into this world bloody and squalling, and often leave the same way. It is so…undignified. The mer, especially the Altmer, are quite careful of their dignity. How it must gall them every time they have to take a shit." Ulfric wasn't amused, though Bryn let out a quiet laugh, her eyes sparkling. He nodded and said, "I see you aren't surprised by my estimation of the situation, either of you. Well, the Empire's estimation, and some careful readings of Elder Scrolls by the Moth Priests. And now Alduin is dead, gone for good, one hopes, and still, we have a Dragonborn. What is that Dragonborn's purpose, one must wonder, beyond destroying Alduin?"

A pang of grief made Bryn's smile instantly disappear. "I asked someone that, once," she muttered. "Early on. What my purpose was." _Oh Vilkas,_ she thoughtful painfully. She wondered how he would be handling this entire encounter, if he had been at her side instead of Ulfric. Ulfric was behaving quite well, but she could tell this was stressful for him.

"And what was the answer?"

"He didn't have one. He couldn't see past Alduin."

"And what do you think your ultimate purpose is, Dragonborn?" The girl looked at him with resigned anguish, had in fact never looked away once since Tullius joined them. It was unfortunate, the burden of greatness, but it was what she had been born for, and she apparently knew it. He went on mirthlessly, "A moth priest came back to the Imperial City not long ago, one Dexion Evicus. He was blind, sadly, but such is the ultimate fate they all accept upon choosing that path in life. He had a fantastic tale to tell, and two Elder Scrolls in his possession. He had tried to buy a third, from you, Queen Brynhilde, and you said it wasn't yours to sell to him. He said that you had read all three Scrolls, one after the other. And that you seemed marvelously unaffected."

"I can assure you, Your Majesty, that I was quite deeply and permanently affected," she said in clipped, tense words. "I saw things that left scars in my soul that will never heal."

"Of that I have no doubt. Even one such as you cannot attempt such a feat and walk away unscathed. Still, Dexion was quite impressed with said feat, as were his brethren when he returned to the fold. They were all quite, quite eager to hear about the Dragonborn. A being of legend, here, now, at such a critical juncture, in the right place at exactly the right time, as such beings tend to be, and often as has been foretold in prophecy."

"_Munax bein qostiid!"_ Bryn spat, the words thundering in the hall, making the soldiers and two mages tense and the Emperor flinch back. "Prophecy is cruel and foul. If you only knew what I had seen! _Zu'u los daanik, pah dovahkiin kiiri wah dinoksetiid! Zu'u fen aus mahfaeraak, sili dreh sosaal!"_

Mede stared at her with wide, dark eyes, and when she hissed and ground the heels of her gauntlets into her eyes he whispered, "I…I'm sorry, but…" He looked to Ulfric for a translation, but the Jarl was staring at his wife with glistening eyes, the muscles beneath his beard twitching. The man looked one moment away from giving in to tears, but then Nords always did live with their emotions close to the surface.

Ulfric moved close to his wife, taking her hands away from her face, and she growled and allowed it, her eyes fixing on him. He glanced at the Emperor, who was waiting for an explanation, and he said shortly, "No. You have picked open a wound that I have kept closed for three months now. Your Majesty. If she wishes to tell you what she said, she will do so."

Mede took in a deep breath and blew it out again, not happy with the answer, and when he looked at Tullius the general was staring at Bryn with an expression that only long association told him was one of dread. Their dark eyes met and it was clear Tullius was deeply worried, no doubt wondering if their Dragonborn was slightly mad, something Tullius had never hinted at, and he would have. Well, all the Dragonborn were to some extent, walking that fine line between brilliance and insanity, and all too often going over it.

He finally said to Ulfric, "Forgive me if I inadvertently caused distress, however it is not unthinkable that I would want to know what she saw in those Scrolls. The moth priests have seen portents that have them highly agitated. They had _me_ rather agitated. I've spent the last six months… obsessing, yes, obsessing over those portents, until I gave in and accepted what they had to mean. They could mean nothing else. I asked myself _What is the Dragonborn's purpose?_ What does the Dragonborn do, every time one appears? Alessia. Wulfharth. Reman Cyrodiil. Tiber Septim. What did each of them do?" Bryn's eyes moved back to him, dry, having never shed a tear, though Ulfric still looked upset. "Each of them with a dragon's soul and Voice, and yet even Tiber Septim had but his own dragon soul and the few Shouts that the Greybeards taught him. You however…how many dragon souls have you absorbed? From what I have learned each soul taken increases the Dragonborn's power. How many dragons have you devoured?"

"I don't know," she said in a trembling voice. "Fifty, sixty…I've lost count. I'm…full. I don't think I can take many more. I feel sometimes as if I'm going to split at the seams." She felt Ulfric's hands tighten on hers, and she couldn't bear to look at him. She had never told him that. Maybe because she had never been able to put the feeling into words before, or even realized the feeling was there. Now that she had, she realized that was exactly how it felt.

"Yes, and I won't insult you by saying I can imagine what it feels like. But there is a _reason_ for it! A reason the dragons returned now, and a Dragonborn hero returned now to take those dragons' souls. Everything is falling apart, Brynhilde. It's been falling apart since Uriel VII was killed. He had the gift of prophetic dreams, as did many of the Septim line, and he told the Hero of Kvatch: _When the dragon dies, the Empire dies._ The Empire cannot survive in its current form, with nothing but trumped up warlords leading it. The Empire has never thrived except with a Dragonborn bloodline on the throne. And so Uriel said: _So long as the blood of the dragon prince runs strong in her rulers, the glory of the Empire shall extend in unbroken years."_ Neither was surprised, and he nodded slowly. "So. That is what you saw in the Scrolls. Tell me that the experience didn't break you to the point where you cannot do it." She made a sputtering sound of exasperation and closed her eyes, and he moved closer to her, saying intently, "Tell me you have it in you to do it!"

"You will unleash a monster," she whispered.

"Perhaps a monster is what we need!"

"Stop this, please," Rikke said in horror, finally compelled to step forward and say something. She put her arm around Bryn's shoulders and said in a pleading tone, "I beg you, Your Majesty, to not call her that. Anything but that."

"Former Legate Rikke, is it?"

"Yes Sire," she said, letting go of Bryn to bow deeply.

When he made a sound of affirmation she rose again, putting her arm back around the girl's shoulders. No, the Dragonborn was no girl, no matter what she looked like. "A poor choice of words, but I was only echoing your own, Dragonborn," Mede stated. "I have been apprised of your upbringing. Maro's people have talked to your family, your Altmer side of the family, and I've spoken to Tullius at length about you. You were not prepared to take on any of the challenges you have faced, or will face. I was raised as a Prince and was chosen by my father to succeed him as Emperor when I was not much younger than you. I was born and raised to rule, as were my brother and sister. That you have come as far as you have in such a short time is a testament to your character and strength."

"It's only because I'm Dragonborn," Bryn muttered.

"So? What difference does that make? You _are_ Dragonborn. It is what you are. It isn't a condition you have, for heaven's sake. It is a gift of Akatosh, not something to be embarrassed of or feel guilty for. A great singer, a great painter, they are born with that potential. Should they be embarrassed of it, because they have a talent others don't? It was given to you for a reason, and you've made good use of it. You have had excellent teachers here in Skyrim. Even your poor, dimwitted Elven aunt did a service to you by giving you some weapons and magical training, inadequate as it was. She wouldn't have lasted long if she hadn't dropped out of the Legion to raise you, dear, I assure you. From what I've been told your father Ennescar was a very gifted battlemage, ten times the mage and warrior Elluhrine was. Your mother Heska has been a bit harder to pin down, as there were several Heskas around her age in the Legion, and it seems those who remember your father don't remember her quite so much. I suppose a young Nord soldier would stand in the shadow of an older Altmer mage of his talent and bearing. Very handsome mer, I've been told, and those who remember Ennescar do recall that his wife was quite pretty. Tall, blond, blue—"

"Wife," she said, her voice breaking. "They were married, then?"

"Yes, why?" She hesitated, and Mede rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you thought you were a bastard on top of everything else."

"My aunt and grandmother told me they weren't married. That I was…an accident."

"All right, enough of this," the Emperor said in exasperation. He took Bryn by the arm and pulled her away from her husband and chamberlain, Ulfric making a sound of offense but letting her go. Mede put his arm through hers and said, "I smell dinner, and I think we would all do better with food in our stomachs." He led Bryn to the stairs, motioning for Ulfric, Rikke, Tullius and Maro to follow. "My good man Maro has the wedding certificate and a few other documents that his people were able to dig up. He wanted to give those to you personally, as they aren't quite the sort of thing one leaves lying around. Your parents married in the Chapel of Mara in Bravil, on Sun's Dawn 16th, 4E172."

"Heart's Day," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.

"Yes, it's a rather busy day at the Chapel, but they do make a point of recording the weddings. So you see, they married long before you were conceived, of their own accord. Frankly I don't think it matters whether you were born under paper or not, and it surely doesn't matter to the Nords, but I'm sure you've been told that." He patted her gauntleted hand on his arm. "You will sit next to me at dinner, and we will try to keep the conversation on pleasant subjects. Tomorrow you will come have brunch with me, just the two of us and Tullius, and we'll get back down to more serious business. Guillaume will escort you back after you've slapped him around a bit and taken the wind out of his sails."

"Yes. Thank you, Sire. For…for everything."

"Of course, my dear. No trouble at all."

Ulfric watched the Emperor walk away with his wife, a troubled look on his face, and Rikke could well guess how he was feeling. He was no doubt upset about Bryn's fresh grief and torment, the root of which Rikke knew was more than just anxiety over one day becoming Empress. She had seen something else during the reading that Ulfric knew about, and they hadn't shared it with anyone in Windhelm. Rikke was sure that Bryn had shared it with Lydia, or at least hoped that she had, knowing all too well her lady's propensity for keeping things to herself. Ulfric was also probably irritated that the Emperor was going out of his way to court Bryn, at least as far as gaining her loyalty. Rikke had no issue with it; it was necessary, and in a way reassuring that Titus Mede II understood how very vital Bryn was to the survival of the Empire. It should have reassured Ulfric that the Emperor cared so much about the future of the Empire that he was willing to put it into the hands of someone outside the Mede bloodline. She had to wonder though if he had shared those intentions with his kin. Bryn shouldn't have to deal with a civil war someday instigated by disgruntled Medes.

When Rikke touched his arm, Ulfric grumbled and offered it to her. Maro was already going ahead of them with the six soldiers and the mages, but Tullius was standing there, gazing at Ulfric with an unreadable expression. Ulfric motioned for him to go ahead, saying coldly, "Please, after you, General. Unless you feel compelled to say something _meaningful_ to me."

"Actually, Jarl Ulfric, I was going to offer Rikke an escort, but you beat me to it," he stated in a calm tone.

Rikke patted Ulfric's shoulder and said, "It's all right, Ulfric. Thank you." Ulfric grunted and let her go, striding out of the room without a backward glance. Once he was gone she quietly said to Tullius, "This has been hard on him, sir. Too many reminders of the past."

"What did I tell you about calling me that?"

"Sorry."

"He should know that he isn't the only one it happened to, by far."

Rikke grimaced and said, "With all due respect, I don't think you can even begin to imagine what those…_fiends_ did to him."

"I know exactly what they did to him, Rikke. I know in extremely graphic detail." She looked ill and stunned, and he rubbed his chin and went on, "Those files that Brynhilde found on the Thalmor ship. A few outlined the Dominion's methods for breaking prisoners. Breaking men, especially. Ulfric was mentioned in one of the files. As one of the few that didn't take their own lives at some point after being let go. The low survival rate of their 'dormant assets' made them reassess their methods. Most were dead inside of five years by their own hand."

"Merciful Mara!" she whispered in grief.

"I would tell him I'm sorry for what he went through, but something tells me the effort would not be appreciated."

"Divines, no, it would not. He would hate you for it. But the Queen would appreciate the sentiment." She bit her lip, wondering what more she had the right to say, then she finally said, "It was her sympathy for him that changed things. She had the dossier for nearly a year and spent all that time pondering what effects his captivity had had on him, and when she finally met with him and gave him the dossier and he confided in her about how he couldn't tolerate being with anyone because of it, all those years… That was what started things between them, even though she was still with Vilkas of the Companions at the time. When she came back from Sovngarde changed she felt no man but Ulfric would have her or understand her, and he felt no woman was strong enough to deal with his trauma but her."

Tullius grunted and muttered, "Seems it was inevitable, I suppose." He wasn't a romantic or prone to deep emotion, but even he couldn't help being moved by Rikke's words. Maybe the two of them had really only had each other to turn to.

"Ulfric…he _lives_ for her."

"Yes, I could tell." It was something Tullius had never gotten used to, how Nords put their emotions on display like that. Ulfric's feelings had been right there for everyone to see, without pride or shame. Tullius supposed going from nearly having your head chopped off as a rebel to ending up as the Dragonborn Queen's consort made one rather grateful. "So…you and Galmar Stone-Fist." As expected, Rikke's cheeks reddened, but she didn't look away, again as expected.

"I knew you were going to bring that up."

"I'm not judging, just…surprised."

"We're close in age, and we get along. We were lonely. He's a widower, and I have no family. He's a handsome man, an honorable man, and we talked about it and figured, why not?"

"Indeed, why not." He offered her his arm and gave her a brief smile. "Before we're missed." She smiled at him with those dimples that no doubt had charmed the gruff old warrior, and he felt a certain wistfulness that he no longer worked with her and would soon be leaving Skyrim. He had grown to respect the Nords, even if he still couldn't relate to them. After the last two years here he was going to miss the crispness the air held even on the warmest summer day, miss the mountains that were always nearby no matter where in the province you were. He would miss smelling the sea and hearing the cries of the sea eagles that flew over the city. He would miss Captain Aldis, and Falk Firebeard. He would even miss Elisif, though she had become a deep disappointment to him, and continued to be. As Ulfric had reportedly said at the Moot, she had never been meant for anything else than being a pretty accessory to a man. It was a shame that she had let her grief twist her into something bitter and unpalatable. It wasn't as if he hadn't entertained certain daydreams, once in a while; now he thanked Dibella that he'd had the sense to resist temptation. He was well aware of his age and had no desire to deal with the whims of a young wife or the chaos of a family. When he got back to Cyrodiil, and if the Emperor allowed him to retire, he might consider finding a comfortable woman in her late thirties or early forties to settle down with, someone with no desire for children. He supposed that was a big if.


End file.
